


Secure in Someone Else's Bonds

by 3988Akasha



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: BDSM, Child Abuse, Incest, M/M, Prison, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-15
Updated: 2011-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very damaged Chris Pine ends up in prison. His cellmate, for good or evil, is Zach. Zach pretty much runs the whole damn place, and Chris presents him with a fascinating challenge. The warnings ensue, in no particular order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secure in Someone Else's Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by bones_2_be

**Secure in Someone Else's Bonds**

**Part 1**  


His feet shuffled along the floor, punctuated by the _clank_ of the restraints around his ankles. Above him, industrial lights hummed and flickered. The tips of his ears tinged red as catcalls from both sides assaulted his ears. Hunched shoulders slumped even further, his arms in front of him, secured by handcuffs. For a moment, an almost hysterical laughter bubbled from him as he realized he felt like a piece of prize cattle being led around the auction stand. The laughter in his mind became more frenzied as he realized he’d be skinned and roasted over a spit just like one of those pieces of cattle, but only if he was lucky. He’d seen this movie before – he knew his role. A shudder ran through his body.

“Stop,” the guard commanded.

He heard the metal door slide in its track. He heard the tiny _click_ as the restraints were unlocked.

“Welcome to your new home, sweetheart,” the guard said, loudly enough for the salivating inmates to hear.

As the catcalls become louder, he grit his teeth, but remained silent. He moved into the cell and heard the door slide back in place with a ring of finality that caused his heart to land somewhere near his big toe. Without looking up from the floor, he moved into the shadows. Blocking himself from the eyes of the vultures outside the iron bars offered a measure of security. The human zoo; animals caged with animals. A wry smile touched his face. He knew he must be going insane to keep having such asinine thoughts. Or, the rational part of him offered, it was simply a defense mechanism to keep himself from having a psychotic break. He decided it didn’t matter which it was – neither was a comfort as the entire cell block was plunged into darkness.

 

  


Harsh fluorescent light flooded into his cell, forcing him awake. Slowly, he uncurled from the ball he’d formed at some point during the night. Every muscle in his body was tight and sore from the uncomfortable position. A loud buzz felt like shards of glass on his not quite awake ears. Blessedly, the noise lasted only a moment.

“Come on, princess,” the guard called, rapping the metal bars with his baton.

He shuffled to his feet, his body protesting the whole way and made it to the door before the guard could draw more attention to him. Against his better judgment, he looked out at the other inhabitants of the cellblock. Every single one of them was staring in his direction…even the ones who couldn’t possibly see him.

The doors opened and the inmates stepped out of their cells, pausing about a foot beyond the threshold. After receiving a pointed glare from the guard, he mirrored their actions. Again, he choked down a crazed laugh as he thought about his zoo analogy from last night. This time it was monkey see, monkey do. Maybe an insanity plea wouldn’t be out of reach when his parole came around…  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
His eyes opened as he heard the electronic lock open; it was his last day. With feline grace, he stretched his body, groaning as he felt the muscles loosen. The four walls offered little room for his lanky frame. With restraints around both his wrists and ankles, he’d been unable to work through his yoga routine in – twenty-one days, and he felt the deficit in his body.

“Quinto,” the guard greeted, “Back to the jungle for you.”

He smiled, sort of. It was more like his lip quirked up and if you squinted you might see a faint hint of amusement in his dark, chocolate eyes.

“Bruce,” he responded, voice casual, “we need to quit meeting like this.”

“I’m wounded. I thought you purposefully did stupid shit to get your ass landed back in here. You know, so we can share quality time.”

This time, his eyebrow quirked up as well. It was much closer to a smile. Bruce chuckled a bit in response.

“Come on, I’m supposed to get you back while the others are eating.”

“No breakfast?”

“You’ll get lunch.”

“Small mercies.”

“Be grateful.”

“Oh, but I am, Mr. Bumble, sir.”

“Smartass.”

He moved slowly out of the cell, movements measured. Throughout their journey back to the cellblock, he stayed to Bruce’s right, a pace ahead of the man, a mocking smile on his face. There would be mild chaos awaiting him in the cellblock. So many mindless wannabe Alphas left to their own devices usually ended in disaster. Especially now – special deliveries always sparked moments of ill-advised independence in the masses. There was always someone wanting to upset the status quo. Someone who thought the system needed to be fixed.

“The probationer’s with me?” Quinto asked, eyebrow arched.

Bruce shook his head. “Don’t know how you manage to know these things.”

“There’s an extra set of stuff in the cell. Why’d you put him with me, Bruce?”

Bruce’s smile didn’t show any teeth. “You owe me.”

Something flickered in the dark brown eyes of the man in the orange jumpsuit. Then Bruce saw the man lick his lips. For a moment, Bruce regretted his decision. There were other available bunks. The cellblock wasn’t quite full. Quinto turned back to face him, arms held out in front of his body.

“Wanna take back your jewelry?”

“It’s the best you’ll ever get.”

“I’m more a gold kinda man, Bruce. You know that.”

The door slid closed behind him. He knew Bruce was lurking off to the side, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to do anything reckless, not with a probationer in his cell. He wouldn’t miss a treat like this for anything. His penetrating gaze surveyed the room. Neither bunk had been touched. In fact, nothing had been touched. Slowly, the edges of his mouth pulled up, revealing white teeth, the smile cold, calculating. He _did_ owe Bruce. He’d settle up his debt once he was on the other side. The smile faltered a bit. It returned quickly, the sound of the cellblock door buzz echoing through the empty room.

Knowing the routine, he moved to the front of the cell, standing with his hands at his sides. He exchanged a look with Bruce, the guard’s eyes unreadable. He moved his eyes to watch the approach of the animals he lived with, a severe look on his face. Tension rippled through their bodies like a bolt of electricity, it made him feel almost giddy.

A blond boy, bulkier in build than himself, but not quite as tall, stood in front of him. The kid wouldn’t look up, it was an intentional decision, too. His lips quirked. The guard behind the kid nudged him forward, forcing him into the cell. Clearly startled, the kid’s eyes shot open, and then up to meet his face. For a moment, Zach forgot to breathe as he ran his eyes over the trembling body in front of him. The jumper was at least a size too big, making it appear as though the kid was playing dress up with daddy’s clothes. The image nearly made him groan aloud. He’d need to keep a tighter leash on his fantasy, for now at least. Slowly, he worked his way up to the boy’s face. It was smooth, angular – defiant. The eyes though, those eyes. He knew he’d have them seared into his mind for the remainder of his life. He’d die with those intense blue eyes boring into him. An unfamiliar stirring in his crotch threw his world into a spin, a dangerous spin.

There was a beautiful contradiction to the way the boy held his gaze and the way his entire body trembled, a mixture of assertiveness and absolute terror. It made his stomach tighten. Slowly, he licked his lips, watched the boy’s eyes follow the movement. He took a predatory step forward, thrilled by the way the boy’s expressive eyes wavered between the urge to retreat and the desire to stand his ground.

“Probationer.”

“Chris.”

He smiled, enjoying the feisty tone of voice. It was a credit to the kid that he didn’t step back. A plan percolated in the back of his mind.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
No matter how many times he ordered himself to look away, to _move_ away, he couldn’t. Not that there was anywhere to go, but it was the motivation behind the intended action. The way the man’s eyes raked over him made him feel warm – he didn’t want to feel warm. It was the warmth of hell, the man before him the devil.

“Chris.”

The fingers of hell danced up his spine as the man’s velvet voice ghosted over him. He didn’t like how much he liked hearing the man say his name. It might have been better to let him stick with probationer. No, it wouldn’t. Chris refused to be anything less than himself. He would keep his name if he couldn’t keep anything else. He wished the man would look away, unnerved by the way the brown eyes seared into him, as if they were staking a claim upon his soul. Rarely did he experience this sort of feeling, this off-kilter knowledge that he could do nothing to escape the inevitability of a man’s intentions. He was master of his own life; he was in control of what happened to him. The mantra felt empty and cold – a poor man’s version of solace. Phantoms of the lies he’d whispered to himself last night as he’d curled in on himself, attempting to find sleep.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a _bad_ place like this?”

Chris rolled his eyes, unable to hold back the instinctual reaction. From the way the man’s eyes darkened, he knew it had been a mistake. Recklessness – his would damn him every time.

“Wrong turn on the highway. Damn GPS kept telling me it was the road to the Hilton.”

He watched the man lick his lips again; his eyes glittered with something Chris couldn’t decipher. When he stepped forward, Chris stepped back; again, again – a parody of a waltz, unable to look away for a moment. A startled gasp escaped his lips as he felt the wall behind him. Trapped in a cage with a different sort of animal; he felt the laughter that was always near the surface threaten to come out as he thought about his extended metaphor.

Elegant hands slammed against the wall on either side of his head. He knew his eyes were wide, his mouth agape yet he could do nothing to control his facial expression. There was no mistaking the power he’d simply handed to the man crowding him into the wall; just as there was no denying the surge of lust that swamped his body at the knowledge. He knew the look in the man’s eyes – he _finally_ recognized it, lust, one that rivaled his own. The realization was a bucket of cold water to his heated body. Lust in prison ended badly for the blond – like being the virgin in the horror movie.

“Your poker face needs some work, Chris. You should learn to control yourself better. Your face reveals so much about you – lets me know what you’re feeling.”

Chris hated how much this man knew about him in the five minutes they’d been around each other. Like the caged animal he was, his eyes darted nervously around the room, looking anywhere but at _him._

When the man moved in closer, Chris’ eyes snapped back to his face as though a magnetic force drew him back to those dark, unfathomable eyes. There was no space between their bodies. He could feel each hard, angular plane of the man’s body pressed flush up against his own body. The evidence of the man’s arousal felt heavy against his thigh, a frightening reminder of his fate. He set his jaw, gathered every shred of courage he could find, and forced himself to gain control of his body’s reaction.

“Is this the rape scene? Don’t you boys usually wait until the lights go out? Or have a few of your friends with you, make a big production of it?”

The hand against the side of his face was feather light, and he closed his eyes, unintentionally savoring the feel of skin-to-skin contact. He nuzzled into the touch, seeking it with his body. Slowly, torturously, the hand moved to his mouth, the thumb tracing along his bottom lip, causing his lips to part as his breath left his body in soft pants.

His eyes snapped open when the stimulus abruptly left his body, turning to seek out the source. The man’s eyes glinted with the sick power he knew he held over Chris, and for a moment, Chris considered begging for the hand to once more caress his face. He knew it was insanity, it was stupid beyond reason, but he almost couldn’t suppress the compulsion he felt within his body. There was a yearning inside him sparked to life by the dangerous man before him.

“See, Chris? Sooner than you think, you’ll beg me to stick my dick into your tight ass. I have nothing but time…you’re not going anywhere.”

“Fucking bastard,” Chris spat out, anger rising to the surface once more. He basked in the anger, let it wrap around him – a cocoon of safety from the other, less hostile emotions evoked by the man in front of him.

“Such a filthy mouth,” the man scolded. “You will earn the right to call me anything you want. You haven’t earned that right yet, probationer.”

Chris glared at the man, but felt the heat once more swirl in his stomach, dark, needy.

“I can’t have you kissing me with that filthy mouth – ” he paused, a dark laugh bubbling from his lips, “at least, not yet. Until I tell you otherwise, until you’ve learned manners, you will call me Mr. Quinto.”

As close as they were, Chris knew _Mr. Quinto_ felt his hips buck, his cock seeking friction. He gulped audibly. A million versions of how he was going to earn the right to call him a fucking bastard raced through his mind, making him feel light-headed.

“Go to hell, Mr. Quinto,” Chris replied, voice flip.

Mr. Quinto smirked at him, but moved away from his body. For a terrifying moment, the room tilted, the ground had been further away earlier.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
Zach moved away from the boy, smiling. It’d been a long time since he’d had someone be so blatantly defiant. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had told him to go to hell, maybe Karl, maybe. Sure, there were a few miscreants who thought they could usurp his position, but it was all subterfuge and intrigue. No one met his eye with defiance – not directly. No one – except the boy, except Christopher. Did he ever use his full name? Zach hoped so; there was something melodic about the way the name rolled around in his mind. He didn’t belong in here with the rest of them. Chris wasn’t a hardened criminal, Chris was soft, smooth…Zach forced his mind to other things. He needed to reign himself in around the boy. It’d been way too long since he’d had a – well, that wouldn’t be a problem for much longer.

Briefly, he glanced over his shoulder. Chris had curled himself into the corner, wide eyes scanning the four walls. He smiled. Knowing Chris wouldn’t miss his movements, Zach stretched his arms above his head, feeling each vertebra pull and realign. With his back to his cellmate, Zach undid the buttons of his jumper, the top hanging loosely around his waist. Feeling the heat of the boy’s gaze on his back, Zach rolled his shoulders before stretching his back, windmilling his arms to the right, then to the left. No reason the kid couldn’t enjoy the show. Voyeurism wasn’t a crime, not in here.

“I won’t bite, Chris. Not until you ask me to. You need to come out from the corner,” Zach called over his shoulder.

He heard the boy stir.

“I’m guessing you’re the top?”

Amused, Zach turned to face Chris, eyebrow arched.

Chris was pointing to the bunks, but there was a spark in his blue eyes, a small challenge.

“I’m always the top. The mattress has conformed to the shape of my body. It takes _forever_ to break in a new one.”

He watched Chris roll his eyes as he settled himself into the corner of the bunk, still curled into himself, as if it would make him invisible to the world around him.

“Right, because you give a damn if I sleep,” Chris mumbled from the corner.

“Christopher,” Zach made his voice soft, comforting, “the only sleep I want you losing is the sleep _I_ cause you to lose.”

He watched the shiver work its way up Chris’ body. It seemed as though _all_ of the boy was as expressive as his face. He was going to enjoy having that golden body naked, laid out before him. Time was their enemy. Chris was a commodity in this place. Zach knew his power, but he was also aware of its limits. The golden boy was going to draw attention with his looks and he was going to draw bad attention with his feisty attitude. Zach needed to gain the boy’s trust soon. For both their sakes.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
The air left his lungs in a rush as his body was slammed up against the shower wall. A warm body molded itself to his back, an erection poked at his ass. His heart hammered an erratic beat against his ribcage, his body infused with warmth not caused by the shower. The devil stood behind him.

“Jailhouse 101 – don’t drop the soap.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “I didn’t drop the damn soap, _Mr. Quinto_.”

He felt the man’s laughter roll across his back, licking down his spine. Warm, soft lips pressed gently to the sensitive patch of skin behind his right ear. Chris bit the inside of his mouth to keep from whimpering; he was _not_ enjoying this. The two of them had been playing around each other for the past week. His resolve was weakening. They both knew it.

“You were bent over, that amazing ass up for all to see. That practically screams invitation. I was confused – thought you were _begging_ for it.”

“That’ll be the day,” Chris growled, trying to squirm out of his hold.

“Mmmm. Better stop the squirming, kid. I’m starting to enjoy it.”

Mr. Quinto’s hands landed on his hips, stilling his movements. Again, Chris found himself fighting the urge to sigh and fall back against the strong form behind him. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want the man behind him, and if Chris continued to remind himself of this, it might become his reality. Although, he found it challenging to remember exactly _why_ he continued to thwart the older man’s seduction as the days continued.

“I thought you didn’t rape anyone, _Mr. Quinto_ ,” Chris ground out between his teeth, angered by his own helplessness.

Another low chuckle danced along his spine, leaving shivers in their wake.

“Oh, Christopher.”

Another warm kiss was pressed to his neck. The silk lips traveled up to his ear, Mr. Quinto’s breath warm as it ghosted over his senses. His breath came in sharply when he felt teeth nip at the lobe of his ear. Chris’ hands curled into fists at his side, as arousal he couldn’t suppress swept through his body. He mustered every ounce of self-restraint he possessed to keep from rutting against the tiled wall in an effort to relive his aching cock. 

“I’m not going to rape you. I’ve never raped anyone – I’ve never needed to. You’ll come to me willingly, Christopher.”

“Not likely.”

The grip on his hips became painful; the velvet lips sucked a bruise into the skin of his neck. Chris’ knees nearly went out from beneath him. He cursed himself.

“This is your only warning, Christopher. Next time you bend over, showing your ass like that, I will consider it an invitation. Don’t ask for something you’re not ready for, boy.”

As soon as he moved away, Chris slid to the tiled floor, boneless. His eyes couldn’t focus, the edges of his vision tinged white and he heard the rasp of his breath as he attempted to reestablish his equilibrium.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
Zach smiled, his cargo safely tucked into his pant leg. Bruce stood arms on hips, face set in a grim line, in the doorway. Zach’s smile faded.

“Bruce?”

“It’s bad, Quinto. You need to keep your shit together. You can’t afford to lose your head now.”

Zach’s face darkened. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Unbelievable – leave them alone for one fucking hour – one hour! His head pounded. He’d solidified his authority on the block…to think that someone would, that someone thought they could –

“How bad?”

Bruce met his thunderous gaze, but remained silent. Zach nodded once and held his arms out in front of him. The cold, metal handcuffs felt heavy on his wrists as he preceded Bruce from the room. During the walk back to the cellblock, Zach’s mind spun.  _Control. Control. Control._ By the time he’d reached his cell, he’d almost gained it, too.

Then he saw Chris. The world expanded and contracted, the edges of his vision bled. Curled up in a ball, covered with the heavy blanket, Chris lay, unmoving, on the bottom bunk. The ball was infinitely smaller than any Zach had seen Chris contort himself into – his heart pounded in his chest, his throat closed. He threw a glance over his shoulder, Bruce’s face an impassive mask. The sound of the door sliding open drew his gaze back to the unmoving boy.

“Zach.”

He spun around; breath leaving his body in short bursts.

Bruce nodded to the handcuffs still attached to Zach’s wrists. He held his wrists out, foot tapping impatiently as Bruce unlocked the restraints. As soon as he was released, Zach was crouched on the ground next to Chris. Faintly, he heard Bruce’s retreating steps echo down the corridor.

Unable to see anything under the blanket covering him, Zach reached out, his hand resting gently on Chris’ shoulder. The body stiffened and jerked away from his touch. Zach bit back his anger.

“Chris.”

Nothing. The boy gave no sign he even heard Zach call his name. Something heavy landed in the pit of his stomach. Dark, it rolled around his gut, squeezing his internal organs painfully. Zach felt nauseous. Frustrated, he yanked the blanket away from Chris’ body, which forced him to uncurl. It was only for a moment; Chris quickly folded back into himself. It had been long enough though. Long enough for Zach to see the bruising.

Zach closed his eyes, jaw tight. Someone was going to die. The resolution gave him a measure of control. Once more, he placed his hand on Chris’ shoulder. Chris didn’t move. Slowly, gently, Zach rubbed small circles into Chris’ shoulder. Soft, nonsensical words tumbled out of his mouth. He didn’t know what he was saying, but his words and gentle touches were working. Slowly Chris began to relax; Zach could feel the tension seep from the boy. His frantic heartbeat began to steady. While his body was pliant, Zach rolled Chris onto his back. The movement forced Chris’ body to unfold even more. Zach moved his hand to Chris’ knee, urging him to lower it. It unnerved Zach to see Chris look like a dog playing dead. He massaged the knee gently, moving his hand up to the thigh, working the muscle there until Chris lowered his legs.

For the first time, Zach was able to take inventory of Chris’ injuries. Red, angry bruises, tinged with darker areas around the outside, were smattered across the side of Chris’ face. His left eye was swollen to the point that Zach knew Chris wouldn’t be able to open it. The tissue was puffy, red. His lip was cut, dried blood clung to the bottom lip, drips of it had dried down his chin, onto his neck. Zach moved his hand to the hem of Chris’ shirt.

Lightning fast, Chris’ hand closed around Zach’s wrist. He moved his eyes from where they’d rested on the flat planes of Chris’ stomach, to his eyes.

“It’s only my face,” Chris told him.

Zach was unconvinced, but decided to leave it alone. He looked down at the hand encircling his wrist, but Chris noticed and quickly snatched his hand away.

“Chris, show me your hands,” Zach ordered.

Hesitantly, as if he feared being in trouble, Chris presented both of his hands for Zach’s inspection. He saw the bruised and bloodied knuckles. A small smirk touched Zach’s face

“What did you do, Christopher?” Zach asked voice honeyed with amusement.

He thought Chris might have rolled his eyes. Zach smiled further.

“This is the part where you tell me I should see the other guy,” Zach prompted.

He stood from the bed, and moved over to the sink. Feeling Chris’ eyes follow him around the room, Zach smirked. Maybe he hadn’t lost as much ground as he originally thought. Methodically, he undid the buttons on the top of his jumper, letting it fall loosely around his waist. He pulled his wife beater over his head swiftly, clenching the material in his hands, knuckles white. Shaking himself, he tore a strip from the bottom. He ran the material under the water, wrung the excess liquid from it and returned to the bunk.

Kneeling by Chris, Zach took in the whole gruesome picture once more. He wanted it imprinted on his mind’s eye. Every detail. Every abrasion, every patch of discolored skin, each shallow cut – he wanted to memorize them all. He planned to repeat the pattern upon the face of whoever was responsible for this mauling; it would be a pity to transpose it incorrectly. He smiled at the thought. He would enjoy feeling the warm blood between his fingers, the pain as his fist connected with the flesh of another. Yes, he would enjoy it a lot.

“Tell me what happened, Chris.”

The boy groaned, eyes closing once more.

“Christopher.”

A single blue eye leveled him. Zach smiled back at him, pleased to see the beginnings of emotion from the listless boy.

“It’s stupid.”

“Most things that end like this are. We’re not in here as a testament to our good life choices.”

Chris laughed, the sound grating, harsh. Quickly, it dissolved into a coughing fit, the force wracking his whole body. Once the fit subsided, Zach brought the makeshift cloth up to his face. He rubbed gently at the dried blood near his lip. He heard Chris hiss as the rough material caught the torn skin; Zach flinched at the sound. Zach moved to continue cleaning the wound when Chris turned away from him again.

“Chris, you’ve gotta let me clean you up,” Zach told him, hand rubbing up and down Chris’ arm gently.

Chris refused to roll back over. Zach couldn’t figure out why – he’d seen the extent of the bruising. And, since he wasn’t in the infirmary, he knew there were no broken bones. It was ridiculous for Chris to refuse to be cleaned up – no one wanted dried blood caking their face.

“I know it hurts, baby,” Zach whispered. “You have to let me clean you up. Can’t have you looking this beat up tomorrow. Plus, they don’t change the sheets in here as often as I’d like, and I can’t have you making a mess of them.”

Situating himself on the bunk, Zach pulled Chris around, forcing him to uncurl his body once more. Gently, he placed Chris’ head on his thigh, his fingers gently tracing his face. Chris blinked up at him with his good eye.

“Tell me what happened. You were in once piece when I left you.”

The blue eye closed. Zach resumed his ministrations. He fought the urge he had to scrub at Chris’ face, to eradicate even a trace of blood, because he didn’t want to cause Chris any more pain. Cradling his head with one hand, Zach gently rubbed the blood from his chin and neck, watching the red turn pink before disappearing. With the blood removed, Zach felt more centered. His hand moved up to tangle in his blond hair, fingers gently massaging Chris’ scalp.

“How’d you get the bruises on your hands, Chris?” Zach prompted.

He felt Chris sigh.

“I ate my Jell-O.”

Shocked, Zach’s hands stilled. Chris whimpered at the loss.

“I’m fluent in prison lingo, Chris. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s not prison lingo. I ate my Jello-O.”

“I wasn’t born with the ability to read your addled brain, Christopher. Quit being a smart ass and tell me what happened.”

“This guy came by the table and wanted my Jell-O. I didn’t want to give it up. It’s the only edible thing in this godforsaken hell hole. I told him so. He really wanted my Jell-O. Pulled me up from the table. Took a swing,” Chris shrugged. “I ducked. Then he hit me again. I hit back. And well – ” Chris spread his arms out. “You can see the result.”

Zach resumed massaging Chris’ head, enjoying the way the boy melted against him. “Who was it?”

“Don’t know.”

“Were you sitting with Karl?”

“Yes, mom.”

Zach tugged painfully on Chris’ hair, waiting until he winced to release his hold. “The appellation, Christopher.”

“Yes, _Mr. Quinto_. I was sitting with Karl. He’s pretty beat up, too.”

“What did the other person look like?”

“He was bald, with this weird tattoo on his head. I haven’t seen him around.”

“Eric.” Zach spat the word out like a curse.

“Who?”

“I want you to stay away from him.”

“I was eating my lunch and he came over to me. I don’t go around _looking_ for trouble.”

“Chris, I’m serious. Stay away from him.”

“Okay.”  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
The curiosity was getting the best of him. He’d seen Zach come in and hide something in the mattress. It was the top bunk, and Chris knew his proposed plan was stupid. It didn’t matter. He had to know. A quick glance around assured him Zach wasn’t there, probably still in the showers. Zach always made him shower first, then go back to the cell – leaving Zach to shower without him. Chris shrugged his shoulders. Zach’s habits weren’t for him to figure out, or understand.

Chris braced himself on the wall and shimmied up a bit so he could reach the seam of the mattress. His fingers ran along the stitching until they encountered a gap; it was small, his hand barely fit inside. Briefly, he wondered how Zach managed to squeeze his larger hands into the hole. When he felt his dick swell, he decided it was time to think about something else.

His hand found something small and round. A shudder raced down his spine as he thought of what it could be, each image more stimulating than the next. Once more, he shook himself. He didn’t have time to fantasize about Zach’s kinks; he’d be back soon and Chris didn’t want to get caught with his hand in Zach’s mattress. A shudder of a different kind chased the other away…or maybe he did.

He pulled it out and blinked down at it for several, long seconds. It didn’t compute in his head. Glow sticks? He couldn’t understand why Zach would have them hidden in his mattress. Or have them at all.

“What are you doing, Christopher?”

The sound of Zach’s voice startled him so completely that Chris fell from his balanced position into a crumpled ball in the corner of the cell. He had a moment where he thought of how fitting his current position was for the punishment he _knew_ was imminent.

“Come here.”

Head down, Chris shuffled over to where Zach stood. His back was to the hallway, the bright fluorescent lights backlighting him. The brighter light of the hallway caused harsh shadows to fall on the angular planes of his face, making his demeanor more severe.

“Kneel.”

Mutely, Chris kneeled at Zach’s feet.

He heard Zach move around him. He didn’t dare look up at Zach. Chris knew it was foolish to sneak around in Zach’s stuff, but he needed to know. Now that he knew, he was just confused. More shuffling noises came from the bunk area, and Chris envisioned Zach shoving his hand into the tight hole in the mattress. He heard the beds creak as Zach climbed into his bunk.

Chris lost his sense of time as he kneeled on the ground. He could feel the pain in his knees travel up his thighs as his knees went numb. Zach’s continued silence bothered him more than the pain in his body. He wanted to say something. He wanted Zach to yell, to demand an apology. Instead, Chris simply kneeled in the middle of the cell, Zach mere feet away, completely ignoring him. It hurt. Chris bit the inside of his mouth to keep from screaming his frustration. His chest heaved with the effort of keeping himself together. It was lonely on the ground with Zach emotionally miles away. The distance of a few feet grew until there was a chasm a mile wide. Eventually, it was too much. Tears leaked from Chris’ closed eyes. He did his best to remain silent. Zach hadn’t told him he could speak, and given his mood, he doubted Zach would be amenable to hearing his plaintive cries.

“Go to bed, Christopher.”

**Part 2**

A week later, the bruises had finally healed. Chris could once more rub his hand down his face without wincing in pain. He still wasn’t sleeping, but that wasn’t exactly something new for him. The past few days had been more difficult than most. He found himself missing Zach (he allowed himself to _think_ of Mr. Qunito as Zach). He’d learned the mysterious man’s name by accident in the lunchroom earlier in the week. Most of the other inmates addressed him as Quinto, so when Karl had called him Zach, Chris had been confused. It still seemed as though Chris was the only one required to add the Mister before Quinto.

Since that time in the shower, Zach had made no move to engage Chris in any kind of intimate way. In fact, short of dogging his steps, Zach pointedly ignored Chris. Each time Chris brushed his hair in the morning, he remembered the way Zach had pulled his hair to the point of pain and found himself tugging it in the same manner, but it failed to have the same effect. Chris was far from surprised to find himself craving the warped affection. He caught himself intentionally provoking Zach whenever the opportunity presented itself. So far, these attempts had gotten him little. Once, Zach had twisted Chris’ arm behind his back, but the moment was too brief for Chris’ liking. He’d _planned_ what he was going to do piss off Zach tonight; he was determined to get the attention he craved. He sighed. It was pointless to deny what he was doing. His patterns hadn’t changed over the years, he doubted they ever would. He would make it until light’s out…only a little while longer.

Behind him, Zach was at the sink, brushing his teeth, washing his hands, washing his face, combing his hair – the same routine each night. Making as little noise as possible, Chris climbed up to the top bunk. The sheets were tightly tucked into neat lines, crisp corners. Doing his best not to disturb the sheets, Chris wiggled into the bed, loving the way the sheets mummified him. He allowed his muscles to relax, inhaling the scent of _Zach_. He heard the water turn off, heard Zach pad softly across the tiny space. When he felt the bunk sway as Zach began to climb to the top bunk, Chris’ heart hammered in anticipation.

Amazingly, Zach said nothing as he pulled the sheets back…didn’t even look at Chris as he slid into the bed, forcing Chris closer to the edge. He felt Zach settle in behind him, felt a warm arm wrap around his waist. When Zach hauled him back against his chest, Chris could have cried with relief. _Finally_. Warm breath fell heavily against Chris’ neck. The arm around him moved further down, until it paused at the top of Chris’ boxers. Zach’s fingers danced along the waistband, making Chris wiggle in an attempt to get the hand lower. When the hand did move further, Chris bit back the curse on the tip of his tongue. Instead of moving inside his boxers, Zach’s hand traveled along the top of the material, ghosting touches against his cock.

Teeth latched onto his shoulder, hard. The sting of it caused Chris to hiss in pain; he’d have a bruise later. The hand that had been teasing his dick abandoned his body and the next thing Chris knew, he was tumbling from the bed. The ground raced up to meet his body and he tried to twist into a better position to absorb the impact. He landed on his side, the air knocked from him. As soon as he’d managed to stumble to his feet, he was forced up against the wall, Zach’s warm body pressed against him.

“I never gave you permission to climb into my bed, Christopher,” Zach’s dark voice growled in his ear.

“You weren’t complaining, Zach,” Chris managed, the name foreign on his tongue.

Chris felt Zach take a deep breath and his stomach tightened. Zach moved away so quickly, Chris nearly slumped to the floor.

“Rest your forearms on the wall.”

Chris shook himself and did as he was told. He looked over his shoulder, Zach’s face barely discernable in the darkness.

“Face the wall.”

Sharp pain raced up his spine as Zach’s hand came down on his ass. When his hand connected the next time, Chris’ back bowed. Zach’s aim was incredible. He alternated sides, one slap to the left side, one to the right, but he always hit the same spot. The pain was consistent. Never harder or softer. Chris lost count after the first fifteen. Tears leaked out from between his closed eyes. The pain was exquisite. His groans melted into inarticulate guttural sounds that did nothing to affect the way Zach beat his flesh.

“You’ll learn,” Zach’s voice felt like velvet against Chris’ senses, “to ask permission. You’ll learn you earn everything I give to you. I control your world, Christopher. Tomorrow, when you feel pain every time you sit, you’ll remember the way in which I control you. I choose where you sleep, I choose how you address me. I allow you two choices, Christopher: you choose to obey or you choose to disobey. Tonight you chose to disobey.”

Even through his lecture, Zach maintained his steady beating, the rhythm never breaking, the pressure never changing. Chris found himself drawn into the man even more. He did choose to disobey. He’d intentionally done something he knew would send Zach over the edge. Chris knew he’d do it again before he’d served his time; he knew Zach knew this, too.

When Zach was finished, Chris’ ass hummed with the pain Zach’d caused. The memory of tonight would last Chris a long while. Perhaps it would last him long enough this time, long enough that he wouldn’t resort to purposefully inciting Zach’s ire. Hope ignited in him. Maybe it would be enough to get him through.

“Take your clothes off, Chris,” Zach’s voice sounded tired.

For a moment, Chris didn’t move, his body not responding to the command. It was a moment too long. Zach’s hand fisted into Chris’ hair, yanking his head back. Pain burned across his scalp.

“I do not like repeating myself. Take off your clothes.”

Once he was released, Chris nearly tripped himself in his haste to do as he was told, knowing Zach’s burning gaze was watching each movement he made. When the material of his boxers slid against the skin of his ass, more tears fell from his eyes, the pain intense. Still facing the wall, Chris waited for Zach to tell him something, anything. He heard Zach climb back into his bunk. He heard the sheets rustle as Zach settled himself into bed.

“Sleep on the floor, Christopher.”

Knowing he’d get no sleep tonight, Chris decided it didn’t matter where he slept. He slid to the ground, rolled onto his stomach and imagined Zach standing over him arm raised to smack down on his flesh – the image brought a smile to Chris’ face.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
It had been two days since Chris’ outburst. Zach clenched his hand, the memory of it connecting with Chris’ covered ass welcome. He teased himself by allowing Chris to keep his boxers on…drawing out the anticipation of his bare hand connecting with his bare ass. The boy had been all manners since then. Not that Zach didn’t notice the way Chris followed him with his eyes, the way the boy cringed each time he sat down, the way his teeth gritted when the material of his pants rubbed against the beaten flesh (Zach made Chris go commando). Zach smiled.

“Quinto,” Karl whispered, nodding towards the left side of the cafeteria.

Zach looked up, his eyes landing on Eric. He’d been fortunate up until now; he hadn’t had the occasion to cross paths with Eric. All good things must pass. Next to him, Chris shifted closer, their thighs aligned. Zach rubbed his foot across Chris’ ankle soothingly, hoping the boy would keep calm. No one was stupid enough to make an overt move against his interests with him present. It would be suicide. That knowledge did not prevent Zach from keeping his eye on the other man. Eric was a formidable opponent, the closest thing to a worthy adversary Zach had in this hellhole. Professional respect aside, Zach would snap his neck if he touched Chris.

When Eric came to a stop at the head of their long table, the entire table stiffened. Zach’s lips quirked as he felt Chris shift even closer, as if to climb into his lap. Zach found he liked that thought. He might allow Chris to do that later. Eric remained silent, passive as he walked along the opposite side of the table – a predator stalking his prey. When he turned to walk along the back side of the table, Zach and Karl stood. From the corner of his eye, he saw Chris nearly slump to the ground since most of his weight had been resting against Zach’s body. The boy righted himself quickly enough. Shoulder to shoulder, Karl and Zach squared off against Eric. The bald man stopped behind Chris; Zach’s hand closed into a fist.

Eric maintained eye contact with Zach as he reached out and ran a hand through Chris’ hair, to his neck, down his back. Chris shuddered and whimpered pitifully. The other man’s hands moved to Chris’ shoulders kneading the flesh.

“It seems you’re keeping better track of your pet, Zach,” Eric taunted.

Eric bent down, his lips brushing against the top of Chris’ head.

“I haven’t been able to get him alone. But don’t worry, I will. I will find him alone and he and I will become better acquainted. Won’t we, Chris?”

Zach snapped. He leapt at Eric, the momentum taking both of them to the ground. A wide grin on his face, Eric laughed up at Zach who held the man down, forearm against Eric’s neck. He struggled to maintain control. He knew Eric was provoking him, using Chris as a tool against him. His logic faded quickly as Eric’s mocking face danced before his eyes, the image of him _touching_ Chris –

Swiftly, Zach brought his head down against the other man’s. Zach pulled back, straightening his torso. Looming over the man, he recalled the way Chris’ face had looked, the bruises, the blood. Holding onto the image, Zach brought his fist down, striking the flesh under Eric’s eye. He felt the pain of bone against bone, he felt the blood slip between his fingers, warm and heavy. It wasn’t enough. Again, Zach brought his hand down, enjoying the feel of the skin beneath his hand rolling across the bone, savoring the agonized sounds coming from Eric. The next blow split Eric’s lip, blood dripping down his chin, to his neck. Zach smiled. He hoped the blood would dry in the correct pattern. It needed to be the same. He bought his arm up once more, ready to land another blow, to finish the pattern when he found his movement restricted.

He tugged more forcefully. It didn’t make any sense. No one should be interrupting him while he was working. It was a delicate process, the perfect transposition of bruises from one body to another required focus. Frustrated, he growled and tugged again. Still, no give. He whipped his head around to find the source of his impediment. Blue eyes stared at him. It startled him for a moment. He felt the body beneath him wiggle in attempt to get away. He squeezed his knees, forcing the little worm to stop moving.

“Christopher.”

“Enough, Mr. Quinto. Enough.”

The hand around his arm squeezed gently. The thumb rubbed soothingly back and forth against his skin. Chris’ eyes were such an intense blue that Zach couldn’t look away. He heard the hurried footsteps of the guards as they came rushing into the cafeteria. He felt the body dragged out from beneath him. When he felt the arms go around him, he wanted to fight them off; he knew they would take him away from Chris. Those blue eyes watched him. Almost imperceptivity, Chris shook his head.

“It’s okay, Mr. Quinto.”

Zach snapped back to himself. The world around him coming back into focus.

“Come on, Quinto,” Bruce’s voice rumbled in his ear. “Let’s you and I go have a chat, hm?”

Zach turned to Karl, an unspoken command passed between them. Karl nodded once and took a step closer to Chris. Zach broke eye contact with Karl and followed Bruce from the cafeteria. They walked in silence, Zach lost to a sea of his own thoughts. His demons plagued him. He’d lost control. The one thing he swore to himself he’d never do – he’d completely lost control of himself, of the situation. Unacceptable. Weak. Pathetic.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?”

Zach’s eyes snapped to Bruce. “No.”

“Okay. Let me tell you something then. We’ve got a business arrangement, and it’s working. I like that it’s working. But, you’re on your way to number three. Ain’t nothing I can do for you if you make it all the way to number three. You understand me?”

Zach nodded. He did. It was the reason his control needed to remain ironclad. It was why his outburst today had been unacceptable.

“You’re lucky the probationer stopped you. He saved your ass. I hope you realize that, Quinto.”

Zach’s eyebrow quirked. Chris interfered in business that was not his. It was not his place to dictate what Zach did or did not do; however, his actions kept Zach from going down the final path. Perhaps there should be some sort of reward for his actions. Once the boy knew his place, of course.

“What now?” Zach asked.

“Now? I get you back to your cell. I’ve given you the only speech you’ll give a damn about. The other guy doesn’t have any broken bones, but he won’t be seeing out of that eye for a while – ”

Zach smirked.

“Which is bad, but none of his injuries get you solitary.”

Bruce walked Zach back to his cell. His mind raced. Owing the boy, even peripherally, bothered Zach. It wasn’t the natural order of things; it wasn’t they way he’d established their relationship. His feelings about the situation didn’t change it – he would do something for Chris. Then the scales would be even.

Inside the cell, Chris sat on his bunk, head bowed to his knees. His eyes snapped open when the door clicked and slid open, following each movement Zach made. Ignoring him, Zach walked over to the sink. The dried blood on his hands turned the water pink. He grimaced as the water hit the split skin of his knuckles. It felt good as the water, pink from the other man’s blood, dripped through his fingers. Chris’ gaze felt heavy on his back.

“That was a foolish thing to do, Christopher,” Zach said without turning around. “Getting involved in my business is not your place. You keep forgetting your place.”

“Your business would have landed you in solitary,” Chris growled. “Then what? You’d be in solitary and I’d be – ”

Zach turned around when Chris quit speaking. The boy was looking away, shoulders hunched. Of course, his actions made perfect sense.

“You’d be alone,” Zach supplied.

“You don’t care. I know you don’t care. That’s fine. I won’t interfere in your business anymore, _Mr. Quinto_. Do whatever the hell you want. Fuck if I care.”

Zach’s lip quirked. “I don’t know if I like the inflection you put on my name, Christopher.”

Chris turned to face him, fire burning in his eyes. Zach held his gaze, challenging the boy to continue his tirade, daring the boy to keep pushing. Not disappointed, Zach’s lip pulled up into a near smile as Chris surged to his feet.

“I know you don’t give a damn about me, _Mr. Quinto_. I know I upset your little world order, _Mr. Quinto_ , but we both know I fucking saved your ass, _Mr. Quinto_ , but you don’t give a damn, do you, _Mr. Quinto_? Well fine. Go fuck yourself, _Mr. Quinto_.”

“Come here.”

He watched Chris stiffen. He watched the way his eyes faltered for the briefest of moments. Zach thought Chris was going to disobey him; his dick hardened in anticipation. Instead, Chris took measured steps forward, pausing about half a foot in front of him. His blue eyes burned with anger, the sight intoxicating. Zach drank it in completely.

“Closer.”

He watched Chris consider defying him. Zach licked his lips. Chris moved forward, their noses an inch apart. Zach leaned forward. He placed a gentle kiss to edge of Chris’ lip, where the cut was healing. The boy shuddered, but didn’t move. Zach smiled against his face. His tongue darted out, licking a path along Chris’ bottom lip. The blue eyes continued to throw fire at him. Zach licked along the crease in Chris’ lips. Chris’ entire body shook with the effort of remaining impassive to Zach’s attentions. Zach moved in again, teeth locking onto the Chris’ bottom lip, biting until he heard Chris hiss. Tenderly, he licked the abused lip, smiling at the blood he tasted on his tongue.

Chris’ body shuddered into him and Zach moved his arms around Chris’ body, his hands landing sharply on Chris’ ass – it wasn’t quite a spank, but the contact stung. From the way the boy’s body bucked forward, he enjoyed the sensation. Zach continued to lick along Chris’ bottom lip, the boy’s whimpers hardening Zach’s dick further. He moved his mouth fully over Chris’, gently encouraging Chris to respond. His hand squeezed the globes of Chris’ ass. That pulled a response from the boy. Chris’ mouth eagerly responded to Zach’s. The kiss was savage, more teeth than tongue as they fought each other. Zach allowed Chris to bite at his lips because…because Chris _hadn’t_ made any other move to touch him. Zach wanted Chris to touch him.

Abruptly, Chris pulled his head back, panting. His eyes still held blue fire, but Zach knew it was more lust than anger at this point. Zach tightened his grip on the boy’s ass, knowing his fingers were causing new bruises on the still tender flesh. Chris’ hips bucked forward.

“The next time you wish to express yourself, Chris, you’ll use a civil tongue. I expect better of you.”

He felt Chris try to move back, to break out of his embrace. Zach pinched his ass, causing the blond to squeak in surprised pain.

“Do you understand me, Christopher?”

He waited a beat before pinching Chris’ ass again.

“Yes, Mr. Quinto,” Chris responded, tone docile.

Zach placed one last gentle kiss to Chris’ lips.

“Good.”  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
That night, Chris slept in his bunk, the sheets cool against his back. There was a certain kindness in Zach’s punishments. Not for the first time, Chris wondered at the restraint he’d shown earlier. The new bruises on his ass aside, the punishment had not been severe.  Reaching out to grab Zach’s arm had been instinctual not intentional. He’d grown dependent upon the older man, he knew this. Deep down, he doubted Zachary Quinto _knew_ how much Chris depended upon him. The man knew about the power he held over Chris, about the control he held over Chris’ actions, but did he realize that each moment of Chris’ life now revolved around Zach? Maybe, but Chris doubted it.

He rolled onto his back, his boxers rubbing against his abused ass. With his eyes closed, he visualized white, fluffy sheep leaping over a white fence. As each one completed the arc, he counted. _One. Two. Three…_ He continued on, the sheep losing their defined shape, soon it was simple white balls of cotton he sent over the fence as he drifted to sleep.

_Cool air wafted over his skin, he felt the bed shift as a warm body moved in behind him. A strong, warm arm wrapped around him, pulling him back. Warm lips pressed against his neck. The hand splayed across his chest rubbed soothingly against his shirt. He felt something nudging against his butt. The lips traveled back and forth against the back of his neck, cold, wet spots left in their wake. He shifted a little, snuggling back into the comforting arms._

_“It’s just you and me now, son,” the whispered words brought tears to his eyes._

_His body shook with his tears, memories of her cold, pale body, the steady_ beep _of the machines in the hospital room, the sympathetic looks from people he didn’t know. The man behind him understood. He felt the same pain – it tied them together, it brought them together. The hand moved under his shirt, sweaty against the skin of his torso. He felt his muscles clench as the fingers traced along each of his ribs._

_“We’ve got to take care of each other now. You and me. Gotta be there for each other. I won’t leave you, Chris. You won’t leave me. We’re all we’ve got now.”_

_Chris allowed the words to surround him, to protect him from the pain, to save him from the loss threatening to consume him. He needed someone to take care of him the way_ she _would. Someone to make him lunch. Someone to kiss the cuts when he fell off his bike. Someone to tell him it was just a nightmare when he woke up screaming in the middle of the night._

_The hand moved further down, touching his penis. Chris knew this was how he showed affection – it was the promise that they’d always have each other. Chris bit down on his tongue as the hand began to move up and down on his penis. At his neck, the lips pressed harder; he knew he’d feel teeth soon. A warmth pooled in the pit of his stomach as the hand on his penis moved faster, and he felt himself beginning to enjoy it – he always ended up enjoying it._

_“Would you like to touch me? Do you want to make me feel good, too?”_

_The question was familiar. Chris nodded his head and the hand on his penis left. He turned around and moved onto his knees. The man rolled onto his back, arms laced behind his head. Chris made eye contact, he enjoyed the way the man’s look made him feel. The need, the possession – he felt owned, safe. With a deep breath, he moved his mouth down to the other man’s penis. It was big and warm, almost too big for his mouth. Chris sucked the tip into his mouth before allowing it to fall out of his mouth with a_ pop _. Then, he stuck his tongue out and went at the man’s penis like a lollypop – just like he’d been told. When he heard the harsh pants of the man above him, Chris moved his hand to the man’s balls, gently rolling them around in his palm. He liked the weight of them in his hands, the squishy feel of them between his fingers._

_“Oh yeah, boy. Just like that. I want you to drink it all down tonight, understand?”_

_He didn’t answer. He wasn’t expected to – he just kept his mouth moving. He always knew when_ it _would happen. The man always went stiff – then it happened. Then he had to force himself to swallow all the liquid down, never spilling a drop. The first time he hadn’t been able to swallow it all – he’d tried. Because he’d failed, the man had left him, arms tied behind his back, alone in the dark all night. He hated the dark. He hated being alone. The next night, he’d been so happy to see the man, he’d eagerly shown his appreciation – swallowing everything like he knew he should._

_Tonight he swallowed it all down only choking a little._

A coughing fit woke him. Chris shook his head, chasing away the remaining phantoms of his dream. It’d been a long time since he’d thought about those nights. A long time since he’d had the nightmare. He smiled bitterly – it’d been a long time since he’d slept long enough to _have_ a dream.

Above him, he heard Zach shift restlessly in his sleep. He smiled softly. It was reassuring to have Zach up there, his black-winged angel. He pulled the blanket closer around his body, cold from the dream. Now, he wished he hadn’t already climbed into Zach’s bed – he needed it now. For a moment, he considered doing it anyway, but quickly decided against it. He needed Zach to hold him, to _want_ him – not throw his ass out of the bed, again. Chills shook his body, the blanket not able to warm him. Maybe tomorrow he’d find a way to get Zach to touch him. Maybe he’d find away to have Zach kiss him again. Maybe he’d find out how to please Zach enough for him to never leave.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
Something was bothering Chris. He hadn’t been sleeping, which meant Zach hadn’t been sleeping. He wanted to be the reason Chris slept or didn’t sleep. The boy had no right to allow his own demons to keep him from sleep. Tonight he would learn what kept Chris awake at night.

“Christopher,” Zach said, pulling the boy from his reading.

Chris merely blinked up at him before turning back to his book. He’d been sitting at the desk reading. Zach, up in his bunk, had been watching him for hours. Zach enjoyed Chris’ small acts of defiance, his continued resistance.

“You haven’t been sleeping. I told you I wanted you to sleep.”

“I know.”

“Why haven’t you been sleeping, Chris?”

He watched as Chris closed the book, earmarking his place, before facing him.

“I never sleep much. Never have.”

“It’s been worse recently. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying. I usually don’t sleep more than a couple hours each night. Nothing for you to mother hen about.”

“Mother hen?”

“Father hen?”

He saw the smirk teasing Chris’ face. His stomach tightened in anticipation. Christopher clearly needed something. He was begging for some attention – blatantly ignoring the basic rules which governed his actions. Zach leapt gracefully from the bunk, landing lightly on his feet. Chris didn’t even flinch. Zach’s hand tightened into a fist at his side. He brought his hand up, gazed locked with Chris’, before bringing it down sharply against the side of the boy’s face.

“You’ll remember the appellation, Christopher.”

Zach watched as Chris exhaled. He watched Chris spit blood from his mouth.

“I’ll be quieter tonight, Mr. Quinto. Don’t want you to go without your beauty sleep.”

“You’re combative tonight, Chris. This concerns me. You’re _also_ avoiding my questions.”

“No, I’m just not answering your questions.”

“Remove your pants.”

Chris gave him a bland look, making no move to do as he was told. Zach’s jaw tightened. He waited a few seconds more, waiting to see which option Chris was going to choose. Zach hit him again.

“Remove your pants.”

Chris kept his eyes locked with his, and spit more blood onto the ground. Zach reached out, his hand fisting into Chris’ hair and hauled him to his feet.

Chris cried out in pain as Zach flung him across the cell. The boy lost his footing and crashed to the ground. Quickly Chris scrambled to his feet, facing Zach. For a moment, Zach failed to understand Chris’ actions. He couldn’t understand why the boy fought him so openly. It didn’t make any sense. Chris moved closer, went to move past Zach without an explanation for his uncharacteristic actions. Zach gripped Chris’ forearm, forcing him to stop. He watched Chris’ other arm pull back, realized the boy’s intent and blocked Chris’ arm an inch from his own face. Both were breathing heavily, there was that familiar fire burning in Chris’ eyes. Locked in a battle of wills, Zach felt something click into place. Chris was finally asking for it. This was Chris _demanding_ it. He hadn’t recognized it at first because he honestly thought it would take longer. It’d only been two months since Chris had been brought into his cell.

Zach slammed Chris into the wall, the boy’s entire body knocking back against it. Still, he was undeterred. He fought wildly against Zach’s grip. The pair continued to struggle. Suddenly, Zach felt Chris’ leg lock behind his own, and the boy moved forward, forcing both of them to the ground. On his back, Zach’s harsh pants fell against Chris’ face. Zach moved his arms out from between their bodies and wrapped his hands around Chris’ neck, squeezing until the boy relaxed. Hands still around his neck, Zach rolled Chris beneath him. The boy’s eyes were wide, but not scared.

Zach rolled his hips, rubbing their crotches together. The friction was sensational, and Zach suppressed a groan. Beneath him, Chris had finally stilled. Zach moved his hands from Chris’ neck to his arms. He forced his hands above his head, knocking them against the floor, hard. Chris winced at the contact.

“There are easier ways to get what you want, Christopher.”

“Like you know what I want, Mr. Quinto.”

“I know what you _need_. That’s more important.”

Zach’s eyes moved down to Chris’ neck, the skin red from where his fingers had pushed into the tender flesh. He felt Chris’ eyes on him. He moved his mouth to the reddest mark on Chris’ neck and sunk his teeth into the flesh. Below him, Chris thrashed wildly, bumping their covered dicks together.

“You still haven’t learned any manners, yet,” Zach explained as he lifted his face from the new mark on Chris’ neck.

He reached out and gently ran a hand down the side of Chris’ face. The split lip had reopened from his hit. With his thumb, he collected drops of Chris’ blood. He brought his thumb up to his mouth and sucked. Underneath him, Chris whimpered.

“You will remove all of your clothing, Christopher. Once that task is completed, you will climb up into my bunk and wait for me.”

“Yes, Mr. Quinto,” Chris responded.

Zach smiled at the relief in the boy’s tone. He moved off his body and stood to his feet in lithe, economic movements. Zach held his hand out; Chris placed his hand in Zach’s, allowing Zach to haul him to his feet. Zach pulled more forcefully than necessary, bringing them into sharp contact. He devoured Chris’ mouth with his own for a few moments before releasing the boy. Stiffly, Zach walked to the sink, listening to the sound of Chris removing his clothes. Once he was sure the boy was up in the bed, Zach brushed his teeth, washed his hands, washed his face – which stung from the places where Chris had scratched him – and combed his hair.

**Part 3**

His face hurt. His ass hurt. His neck hurt. His heart did not. Lying on his back to prevent his bloody lip from staining Zach’s sheets, Chris smiled contently. A small part of him was beginning to believe Zach wouldn’t leave him. That small part was tenacious and needy – kept determinedly scratching away at the remainder of the walls Chris had built around the shattered remnants of his soul. He felt Zach climb into bed behind him, warm arms wrapping around him, pulling him close. Chris wiggled back into the embrace, a contented _hmmm_ rumbling from his chest.

“I want to know why you’re not sleeping,” Zach’s voice whispered across his ear.

Childishly, Chris shook his head.

“It bothers me that you aren’t sleeping at night. You need to tell me what keeps you up at night.”

“It was just a nightmare. People have them all the time.”

“I don’t care about what people have, Christopher. I care about the nightmares _you_ have.”

“It’s just a nightmare. I’ve had it most of my life.”

Chris felt Zach’s lips at the base of his neck. They were warm and wet. Zach’s hands traveled his torso, fingers tracing each of his ribs.

“Tell me about it.”

Chris sighed. Clearly, Zach wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon. The nightmare was _his_ though, his secret. Sharp pain zinged through his body when Zach pinched one of his nipples. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to share _part_ of the dream with Zach.

“It’s about my mom.”

Zach’s teeth nibbled up and down the side of Chris’ neck, he felt goose bumps erupt on his skin.

“She died when I was seven.”

Zach’s hand traveled south, his hand wrapped around Chris’ dick, slowly stroking it to life.

“It was hard to lose her. She got sick and – and she never got better.”

Chris felt his earlobe enveloped by Zach’s warm mouth, his teeth tugged on it slightly as it passed his lips.

“After that, it was just me and – ” Chris cut off, unable to go there. Unable to tell Zach about the nightmare part of the dream.

Zach pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Chris’ neck. “It’s okay, Chris. You’ll trust me eventually.”

Chris wanted to cry at the hope in Zach’s voice. He had absolute faith that Chris would grow to trust him. It wasn’t so much about trust – Chris did trust Zach. But, it was his secret. It was the only thing that would _always_ be his. No one needed to know.

Zach’s hand began to move faster up and down his dick. Chris closed his eyes as pleasure snaked through his system. Chris’ breathing became erratic as Zach’s hand did this twist thing on each up stroke. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d become that hard that fast. It might have been embarrassing, if he’d had enough mental energy to devote to such thoughts. As it was, his entire world was focused on Zach’s hand on his dick.

“I want you to come for me, Christopher. I want you to come all over my hand as I pump your dick.”

“Gah!” Chris sputtered, on the brink _before_ Zach whispered in his ear.

“I want you to moan out my name, I want you to know I’m the one allowing you release.”

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, Mr. Quinto.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he came, spurts of hot come staining Zach’s hand, his chest, the sheet.

“Mmmm,” Zach hummed against his neck. “I knew you had manners trapped in that Neanderthal cranium of yours.”

Chris wanted to snap back something about large words with syllables and such, but he was too sated to do anything more than groan. It bothered him that Zach was still so fucking _eloquent_ after jerking him off, but he’d just had a powerful orgasm – so in the large picture he figured it didn’t really matter. That night, Chris slept without any nightmares.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
As each day passed, Zach found it more and more difficult to avoid touching Chris. It wasn’t the sudden surge of lust like he’d experienced that day in the showers, Zach shuddered at the memory, but it was more a continuous undercurrent of raw need. Each time one of his marks began to fade, he had to force himself to wait until they were once more in the “privacy” of their cell before he could make a new one appear on his skin. Part of him blamed Chris. The boy didn’t make any moves to stop him, and he _always_ remembered the appellation now. Without direction, they had established a routine, pushed their relationship into a new realm. Each night at lights out, Chris would strip out of his clothes and climb into the top bunk, silently waiting for Zach to join him. Some nights, Zach simply held him. Others – Zach grinned lasciviously.

That must be the reason he felt compelled to always be _touching_ the boy. Having constant contact with his warm, pliant body all night made his desire to maintain contact during their conscious hours greater. What worried him though was how passive Chris had become. Zach didn’t mind giving Chris pleasure, but he wondered why Chris wouldn’t want to be a more active participant during their nocturnal activities. The one time Chris had been active in anything remotely sexual between them, Zach had nearly come undone – and it was only a kiss. Perhaps Chris was waiting for some sort of hint from Zach, some form of acknowledgement that he was _allowed_ to touch. At the same time, Zach didn’t want to force Chris to touch him – not yet, not unless it became _necessary_ for them both. He wouldn’t rape the boy; he feared any sort of compromise on his stance would lead to disaster.

He looked over at the desk, Chris sat curled up with another book. The boy read _constantly_. It seemed to give him solace. Zach smiled. Maybe some subtle hinting would work.

“Chris,” Zach said.

Chris closed his book and looked up expectantly.

“Chris, get up in my bunk. Sleep against the wall tonight.”

The boy looked confused but did as instructed. Zach shook his head before he began his own nightly routine, with one difference. He stripped off all of his clothes. For the first time in too long, he felt Chris’ hot gaze on his body. His eyes closed as warmth spread throughout his body. Languidly, Zach climbed into the bunk and settled himself in front of Chris, careful to make no contact with his body.

In the darkness, they stayed like that for long minutes. Zach felt Chris’ breath tickle his exposed flesh. It took all of Zach’s willpower to remain still. Again, he felt the exquisite torture of _waiting_ for Chris to do something. With his eyes closed, he was able to conjure images of what it would look like for Chris to touch him finally.

The bed shifted, the creek loud in the darkness. Zach had that elusive sixth sense feeling, the one where it was a phantom touch but no one was there. Instinctively, he _knew_ Chris had shifted closer. Silently, Zach urged him on, encouraged him to reach out and touch. It occurred to Zach that Chris was teasing him. The boy was tenacious enough to tease him in such a way. To draw out the anticipation of that first touch. Zach smiled.

There, it was feather light and it danced across his shoulder blades like a whisper. Chris’ fingers were soft, smooth – just as Zach’d imagined they’d feel. Again, Chris trailed the pads of his fingers across the skin of Zach’s shoulders. He felt Chris shift closer, his breath caressing Zach’s skin. Chris trailed his finger down Zach’s spine, he traced the contours of Zach’s back, then back up to outline his shoulders. The touches were light, hesitant, exploratory – and driving Zach mad. He wanted nothing more than to roll over and pin Chris to the mattress, pounding him into oblivion. This was what Chris had reduced him to – this uncontrollable ball of need, a tightly wound coil.

When Chris began placing kisses along Zach’s shoulders, he fisted his hands into the sheets to help remain still. Chris’ lips were as soft and warm as his fingers. Chris splayed his fingers on his shoulders, kneading the flesh while his lips gently kissed the space between them. Zach felt the air leaving Chris’ nose against his skin and the combined feelings made him shiver. He’d forgotten this feeling, this building desire. He’d been too long without a companion. Solidifying power in a place like this didn’t lend itself to intimate interludes, well, not like this. Not this give and take of pleasure, not this exchange. No. It had always been one sided. He’d thought it’d been enough. Until he’d seen Chris Pine inside his cell it had been.

Chris’ hand continued to explore, his movements gaining courage since Zach hadn’t scolded him. The boy’s left hand trailed around the top of his shoulder and down to his chest. Chris molded his body to Zach’s, and Zach could feel Chris dick hardening against his back. It pleased him to know Chris found pleasure in exploring his body. Chris ran his fingers through Zach’s chest hair, occasionally sweeping the pad of his thumb across Zach’s nipple. As it moved up his neck, Chris kept his kisses gentle, his tongue escaping to taste Zach’s skin. Testing the boundaries of his new freedom, Chris took Zach’s nipple between his thumb and first finger squeezing the hardened tip briefly before he released it, soothing it with gentle strokes. As with his verbal defiance, Zach found himself respond to Chris’ sexual assertiveness. It appeared that Chris was learning his place, his role in this relationship.

“Can I kiss you?”

Chris’ request whispered against Zach’s ear. His eyes rolled closed as the entreaty stroked his senses. He pondered the question. While he wanted nothing more than to feel Chris’ lips against his own, he knew it would change the tenor of their encounter.

“I’m sorry,” Chris whispered, “I shouldn’t have asked. You’d tell me if you wanted me to kiss you.”

Zach felt Chris shift away. He clamped his hand around Chris’ wrist, trapping it against his chest. He took a stabilizing breath.

“I want you to be comfortable with my body.”

Chris’ thumb moved absently against Zach’s chest as he waited for Chris to say something. Zach didn’t rape anyone. It was an abhorrent act, one of the few vices in which Zach would never indulge. No one in this prison was a rapist. Rapists didn’t live long enough to become citizens of this prison. None on his block lived through their first night; Zach made sure of it. Chris was safe from him in this single act.

“I’m not – ” Chris broke off, his head burrowed into Zach’s back.

Zach rolled to face Chris. Gently, he lifted Chris’ chin, forcing the boy to look up at him.

“I know you’re not ready, Chris. I won’t until you are.”

“You’re disappointed.”

“Yes.”

Chris looked down, away from Zach’s gaze.

“What are you expecting, Mr. Quinto?”

Zach stomped down the surge of lust that wracked his system when Chris employed the appellation. He expected to have better control of himself. He expected Chris to be less tempting. He expected…it didn’t matter.

“I expect you to enjoy our time together.”

Chris simply nodded and snuggled into Zach’s chest. Zach wrapped his arms around Chris’ body, enjoying the feel of him in his arms. He brushed a kiss to the top of Chris’ head. He would have patience. He would take small steps.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
The nightmares were back. Since the night Zach had decided to sleep naked, Chris had been relegated to his own bunk. He’d grown accustomed to the warmth and security of Zach’s body. Without them, the dreams once more plagued his sleep. Tonight, Chris stared up at the bottom of Zach’s bunk, wishing for x-ray vision. Wishing he knew what had upset Zach so much. At times, things were normal. Zach would launch himself at Chris, forcing his tongue down his throat. Chris lived for those moments. During those times, he still believed Zach wanted him.

“I can’t sleep, Mr. Quinto,” Chris announced.

To his amazement, Zach didn’t respond; he simply raised an eyebrow.

“You suddenly don’t care that I can’t sleep?”

This time, Zach smirked.

Chris looked at his feet, his shoulders slumped. “Let me sleep with you.”

“Are you asking me for a favor?”

“No. I just thought you wanted me to sleep.”

“I do want you to sleep.”

“Then let me sleep _with_ you. It’s the only way I can sleep anymore.”

Zach gave Chris another one of those insufferable smirks. Chris stood from the chair. He had nothing left to lose at this point. Zach was standing in front of the sink, washing his hands. Chris moved up behind him and ran his hands down Zach’s arms. When Zach didn’t shrug him off, Chris situated himself closer to the older man’s body. Chris placed gentle kisses to the exposed skin of Zach’s shoulder. His hands roamed Zach’s broad chest. Slowly, Chris trailed his fingers down to the hem of Zach’s shirt. After taking a fortifying breath, Chris moved his hands under the black material of his wife beater. He felt the way Zach’s muscles clenched and unclenched, enjoying the heady feeling of power – he enjoyed knowing Zach was _affected_ by him.

His mouth moved to Zach’s neck, tasting the skin there. Zach remained still, allowing Chris to explore at his own pace. This was good, if Zach made any sort of aggressive move, Chris feared he’d lose his nerve. He liked the way Zach’s skin tasted, he liked the way his lean muscles felt beneath his fingers. What he liked more was being held in those strong arms. Those arms which were powerful enough to keep his nightmares at bay. With that goal in mind, Chris moved his hands just below the waist of Zach’s jumper.

Zach seized his hands. Chris froze.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, boy,” Zach’s voice growled, low and dangerous.

“I – I want to make you happy,” Chris managed, throat constricted.

Zach raised an eyebrow.

“You wanted me to be comfortable with your body, Mr. Quinto.”

“I did.”

“Then fucking give me a chance to get there. You randomly deciding you want to shove your goddamned tongue down my throat doesn’t give me a chance to get _comfortable_ with you.”

“I don’t like your tone, Christopher.”

“Please, Mr. Quinto.”

Chris felt the threat of tears. He knew he had no shame. Not here, not in front of Zach. He was begging; he was pathetic. He was weak and he knew it. He’d forgotten what it was like to have someone take care of him, to have someone look out for him. It felt good to have someone else be in charge. It didn’t feel good to be ignored. It didn’t feel good to be neglected by the one he’d become dependent upon, and if he needed to do this to get the attention he craved, then that’s what he’d do.

Zach had turned around, and Chris had been so distracted he hadn’t noticed. Zach peered down at him with a thoughtful look. Chris forgot to breathe.

“You really want to do this?”

“I _need_ to do this. I did something to piss you off – you won’t let me make it right.”

Dropping to his knees, Chris fought down the rising panic. Sure, he’d told himself he was prepared for this, but that was a lie. He wanted to make Zach happy, that wasn’t a lie, but he knew what happened when this went wrong. He knew the consequences if he didn’t do it right. He knew this was his only chance. His hands shook as he reached up and pulled the jumper down, it pooled around Zach’s ankles. Zach’s hand fisted into his hair, yanking his head back painfully to look up at Zach.

“I’m not a patient man, Christopher.”

Chris nodded, causing pain to race across his scalp since Zach still held his hair in his vice grip. He forced himself to calm down, to focus. He’d done this before, successfully. Determined to earn his way back into Zach’s bed, Chris took Zach’s dick in his hand. Zach still held his hair, forcing Chris to watch the man’s face. Chris moved his hand, grip firm, up and down the man’s shaft slowly. The first couple of movements were jerky and unpracticed, his nerves getting the best of him. After a couple of minutes, Chris had established a steady rhythm. Twisting his wrist with the upstroke, Chris watched as Zach’s eyes darkened with arousal.

It was difficult with the way Zach was holding his hair, but Chris moved his face forward, his tongue darting out to lick across the tip of Zach’s cock. The hand in his hair tightened, but then moved so that Chris could more easily reach Zach’s cock. Just like he’d been taught, Chris licked Zach’s dick like it was a lollypop. He was able to read the subtle changes in Zach’s face and knew which actions he liked the most. Zach’s mouth would part when Chris licked the underside of his dick while rolling his balls between his fingers. This part was okay for Chris. He was comfortable with this, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Bracing himself, Chris slowly wrapped his mouth around the head of Zach’s dick. He was careful to keep his teeth away as he pushed his mouth further and further down his dick.

Above him, Zach’s eyes rolled up and closed as Chris moved his mouth over Zach’s dick. Each time, Chris tried to take more of Zach’s girth into his mouth, but it became more difficult to do so without gagging. Chris hated gagging; it always made his eyes water. Zach changed the tempo by thrusting his hips forward into Chris’ mouth. Chris placed his hands on Zach’s thighs, kept his mouth open and waited until Zach was done fucking his mouth. It wasn’t so bad. He didn’t thrust too deeply, but it was hard and fast. Chris really had to focus to keep his teeth out of the way. Wanting to speed things up, Chris moved one of his hands down to Zach’s balls and massaged them, tugged on them, rolled them between his fingers.

“I’m going to come, Christopher. I’m going to come on your face.”

The words didn’t process at first. He felt the way Zach’s body tightened; he knew _it_ was coming. He always knew when _it_ was close. When Zach pulled out of his mouth, Chris blinked up at him stupidly. He blinked more when white come splashed across his face. Zach’s guttural, primal sounds of release echoed in his ears.

“I like seeing myself on you, Christopher. To see your face covered in my come.”

Chris remained on his knees, breathing hard. He’d made Zach happy. He couldn’t believe it.

“Take off your clothes. It’s time for bed.”

Legs shaky, Chris stumbled to his feet.

Zach hauled him close to his body. He crushed their mouths together. Chris could feel the other man’s come mix into their kiss. Zach seemed to enjoy the taste of himself because he would lick around Chris’ face before plunging his tongue back into Chris’ mouth. Before long, Chris felt himself respond to the kiss, his body seeking more contact. He moved his arms around Zach’s body, holding onto him tightly, returning the ardor of the kiss, submerging himself in the comfort of Zach’s presence. All too soon, Zach pulled away, his eyes as dark as ever.

“Strip and get into bed, Christopher.”  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
Zach watched Chris stagger to the bed. He allowed himself a few minutes to recover from Chris’ amazing mouth. It was the first time Chris had initiated any of their intimate encounters, and it made Zach smile to know that Chris was beginning to feel comfortable enough to do so. Zach walked over to the head of the bunks and reached up to the seam of his mattress. He pulled one of the glow sticks out and rolled it around in his hand. Chris deserved a treat. The boy had been excellent about remembering the appellation, and the way his lips wrapped around Zach’s dick in just _that way_ …yes, Chris deserved a treat.

Zach felt Chris’ eyes on him as he climbed into the bed. He smiled gently at the boy; he liked the soft look in his eyes. He moved in behind Chris and felt him melt into him. Zach placed a soft kiss to Chris’ neck as he wrapped his arm around Chris’ torso. He moved his hand up so that it was in front of Chris’ face, the glow stick between his fingers.

“This will help.”

Chris didn’t say anything as he took the glow stick from Zach, but Zach felt the way the boy’s breath hitched and that was answer enough.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
Chris resisted the urge to drag his feet mainly because he knew Bruce would simply haul his ass over his shoulder and take Chris to the visiting room anyway. It would be better to walk into the room on his own two feet. Fortunately, Zach hadn’t asked any questions this morning, or during lunch. For once, Chris didn’t want to lie to Zach about what was bothering him, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it either. Bruce crashed into him when he came to a stop in front of the door.

“Come on, Pine. Get a move on. It’s just a visitation,” Bruce grumbled, pushing him forward.

Chris forced his feet to move him into the room. Sitting alone at a round table in the far corner, well, as close to the far corner a person in the visitation room was allowed, the man waited. He swallowed convulsively, forcing the tremors from his body. He felt the man’s assessing gaze travel his body.

“Chris,” the man greeted, not rising from the table.

Mutely, Chris sat down opposite the man. He saw the way the man’s lips twitched in amusement. Sure, the distance was a joke, but he needed time to get his head straight. Things had been going so well in here for him.

“You don’t even have a hello for me?”

“Hi.”

“Well, that’s mature, Chris. I know what you must be thinking, but I came here because I wanted to see you – make sure you were okay.”

Chris snorted. “You’re worried about me? It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“I don’t like your tone, boy.”

“I don’t give a damn whether or not you like my _tone_. You don’t have to like it anymore. You’ve got – ” Chris broke off abruptly, face red.

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“Why the hell not? She’s the real reason you’re here.”

“She didn’t send me.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I know. She wouldn’t want you anywhere near me. You’re here because I’m here. I’m here because she _wants_ me here.”

“It’s not like that, Chris.”

Before he could answer, the man stood and sat next to him at the table. From the way Chris shoulders were shaking with anger, hurt, and numerous other emotions he couldn’t name, it would appear the man was merely trying to offer comfort. Damn him. Damn him and the horse he rode in on straight to hell. The arm fell heavy on his shoulder, the warmth of it familiar to him, but somehow different, almost wrong. Instinctively, Chris tried to shrug it off; the fingers bit into his shoulder, forcing him to remain still. He hissed as the fingers bit into some of Zach’s more recent handiwork.

“You didn’t use to be this tender, Chris,” the man murmured, his lips brushing against Chris’ ear.

Chris fought harder to move away as he felt the material of his jumpsuit pull away from his shoulder. He knew what the other man would see. He knew the other man would see the marks on his flesh, the ownership Zach had stamped into his flesh last night, the night before…

“Seems as though I’m not the only one who moved on, hm?”

Chris didn’t answer.

“Does he take care of you? Can he give you what you need?”

Still, Chris didn’t answer. His hands balled into fists at his side as the words flowed over him. Then he felt the man’s lips ghost across his neck. He couldn’t repress the low moan from passing his lips any more than he could stop gravity from working when Zach decided to launch him out of bed. It was too familiar, too intimate – it felt too much like home. A warm tongue snaked out and traveled up and down the side of Chris’ face. The man’s hand moved from his shoulder down his chest before resting softly on top of his crotch. Chris stopped breathing.  

At his neck, the lips began to suck on the skin where the neck met the shoulder. At his crotch, the hand began to rub gently. The fingers undid the fastening, moved in and wrapped around Chris’ semi-hard penis. Slowly, the hand moved up and down on his shaft, the lips at his neck pressed more insistently against his flesh.

“Breathe, Chris,” the voice whispered over his hyper-sensitive flesh.

In a _woosh_ the breath Chris had been holding flew out of his body at the whispered command. He felt himself lulled back into the familiar sensation. The hand continued its torturous movements, a steady rhythm. His eyes fluttered closed as pleasure began seeping into his body. No longer controlled by his mind, his body responded to the intimate caresses. Sharp teeth bit into his neck, rolling the skin between them. Chris hissed and the hand at his crotch moved away. He groaned at the lack of contact. He was fully, painfully, erect.

The mouth moved away from his neck. Chris moved his face to look, knowing he shouldn’t. The man smirked triumphantly at him as he stood from the table.

“See if he’ll take you now, Chris. See if he wants my leftovers. See if he cares enough about you to finish you off.”

The man was no more than three steps away when Chris’ brain began to function again. He stood, legs only slightly shaky, and called softly after him.

“Does she let you fuck her in the ass? Does she still look at you with that disgusted look when she catches you looking at your boy porn stash?”

The words were out before he could think better of them and the man was back in front of him before anyone could have done anything. His face stung and throbbed in the wake of the blow. It was the opposite side of his face, the one unused to such abuse and Chris felt blood dripping down his chin. To his shame, his shaft twitched, still hard. With hasty, jerky movements, Chris wiped the blood from his face. He didn’t want Zach to see him like this. He _couldn’t_ let Zach see him like this.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
Zach whistled as he walked back to his cell. Things with Chris had been progressing nicely, his meeting with his lawyer had been as good as it ever was and today wasn’t mystery meat Monday. Chris had seemed a little distracted earlier, but it was the first visitation the boy had had since he’d been in here. It made sense he’d be a little nervous about it. Expecting to see him curled up in the chair reading whatever his book of the week was, Zach felt his heart rate accelerate when he didn’t see Chris sitting in the chair, or on the bunk, or on _his_ bunk.

“Chris?” Zach called softly as he rounded the bunk bed.

Zach felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. Sitting in the corner, knees tucked up to his chin, Chris sat, a jagged piece of glass in his hand. Deep crimson drops of blood dripped from the tip of the glass shard. Chris’ eyes held a glazed look Zach didn’t like, and he quickly crouched down in front of the boy. On his left arm, ten symmetrical cuts marred Chris’ skin. Zach took a moment to appreciate the skill with which the cuts were made. Each cut was the same size and was spaced equally along the length of his arm from wrist to elbow. The cuts were shallow enough to not scar, but deep enough to draw blood, which ran freely down the side of his arm. The preciseness bothered Zach; Chris had done this before, many times. Zach pried the piece of glass from Chris’ hand and placed it on the sink. He’d figure out how in the hell the boy had managed to get a piece of glass in this place later.

“Chris, what happened?”

Chris looked at Zach without seeing him. Ice gripped Zach’s heart. Swiftly, he stood, tore off the bottom of his shirt (he really needed to find a better way to make rags) and soaked it in warm water. Crouching back down in front of him, Zach gently took Chris’ abused arm in his hands. He ran the rag over the cuts, watching the blood stain the material pink – Zach was growing to hate the color. Chris didn’t make any movements while Zach cleaned him up; if it weren’t for the rising and falling of his chest, Zach would have thought the boy was dead. He cursed himself for not asking more questions this morning. He _knew_ better than to assume anything when it came to Chris’ emotions. Something must have happened during the visitation.

Gently, he released Chris’ arm and placed the rag in the sink. Chris still hadn’t moved.

“Chris,” Zach said, as he gently lifted the boy’s arms.

He didn’t fight against Zach as he heaved him to his feet, but he didn’t help either. Thankful for his upper body strength, Zach managed to lift Chris from the floor and drag him to the bottom bunk. Carefully, Zach situated Chris in his lap. Once they’d settled, Chris began to shake uncontrollably. Zach ran his fingers through Chris’ hair, rubbing his scalp soothingly. Slowly, he began to rock back and forth, hoping to calm Chris down enough so that they could talk. He noticed the dark, angry bruise on the other side of Chris’ mouth, and a mark on his neck – a mark he didn’t put there. They would talk once he stopped shaking so badly.  

For Zach, it was an eternity before Chris stopped shaking. The only sign of life was when Zach felt Chris’ hands unclench before wrapping around his waist. Chris clung to him like a lifeline; Zach could feel the desperation in his embrace.

“Chris, you need to tell me what happened.”

Zach coerced Chris to roll onto his back so that at least he could see the boy’s face. His face was red and blotchy from his silent tears. It was easier to tell when he was being evasive that way.

“I thought you were gone,” Chris whispered, broken.

“Gone? Where was I going to go, Chris?” Zach asked, confused.

“To another cell. Away from me. I thought he – I thought he was right and you’d leave me.”

Anger and jealousy surged through Zach at the word _he_. He bit down his instinctual anger and focused once more on comforting Chris.

“Who said I was going to leave you?”

“H-he did. Said you wouldn’t w-want me anymore. Said I was leftovers and you wouldn’t want me because I was leftovers. You weren’t here…you didn’t come back, I waited for you to come back. Thought you’d left. You weren’t here.”

Zach caressed the side of Chris’ tearstained face. Daggers stabbed his heart as he heard Chris’ broken confession. He’d been meeting with his lawyer; they’d known each other for years and been sidetracked reminiscing about the days before Zach landed himself in jail. As a result, he’d missed dinner.

“Did he do this to your face, Chris?” Zach asked, a finger trailing lightly over the puffy area.

Chris nodded mutely against Zach’s chest.

“And this?” Zach asked, fingers ghosting over the mark on his neck.

Chris burrowed his head further into Zach’s chest, which he interpreted as “yes” – and Zach forced himself to prioritize his emotions again. The first responsibility he had was to Chris. Revenge would wait.

“I’m here, Chris. I’m not leaving you.”

Chris looked up at him, disbelief etched into his beautiful face.

“He was lying to you. This – ” Zach touched the mark on Chris’ neck, “and this – ” Zach touched the side of Chris’ mouth, “wouldn’t keep me away from you. They wouldn’t make me leave you.”

“He – he,” Chris broke off, unable to finish.

“He what, Chris? What did he do to you?”

“He touched me. It turned me on. He left me like that. Left me wanting and you were gone. He said you wouldn’t care enough to finish me off because I’m just leftovers. His leftovers.”

Zach allowed his anger to simmer below the surface. He would find out who did this to Chris. He would find out and he would ensure it could never happen again. No one touched what was his – no one.

“You’re not leftovers, Chris. You’re mine. I’m not so easy to get rid of, not easy to get rid of at all.”

“Promise?”

Zach looked down at Chris. Saw the pleading desperation in his eyes. He saw the madness lurking in the depths of those blue eyes. No one was going to take Chris away from him. No one.

  
“Promise.”

 

**Part 4**

“What are you looking for, Chris?” Zach asked.

The boy had been madly searching around the room for the past fifteen minutes. Honestly, the space was only so big, so after about five minutes he’d pretty much searched everywhere. Chris, however, was determined to find that single elusive spot he was missing. Zach had gone from being merely amused to slightly concerned. Chris’ behavior had been more than a little off since his visitation. Zach had decided to give him some space, but that ended now.

“Nothing,” Chris responded off-handedly.

“Chris, that isn’t true. Tell me what you’re looking for; I might know where it is.”

“Look,” Chris said, looking up at Zach, “it’s not a big deal, okay?”

Zach moved from the chair and he heard Chris sigh. He’d left Chris alone with his thoughts for long enough. He stepped up next to him, resting his hand on Chris’ shoulder, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“What are you looking for, Christopher?”

Chris hung his head.

Zach placed his hands on each of Chris’ shoulders, turning Chris to face him.

Chris blinked up at him.

“It’s gone, and I think you got rid of it.”

Zach raised an eyebrow. “Got rid of what?”

When he didn’t answer, Zach looked down and saw Chris rubbing his arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me the nightmares were back?”

Chris violently broke away from Zach’s grip, turning his back.

“I just didn’t, okay?” Chris threw over his shoulder.

“No, Chris. It’s not okay. Ever since you met with your mystery visitor, the dreams have been worse. I’m not an idiot and I’ve been patient long enough. You’re going to tell me what’s going on in that screwy little brain of yours.”

“You can’t bully me into this, Zach.”

Zach stepped up behind him, grabbed a fistful of hair (it’d grown out nicely, he refused to let Chris cut it) and jerked his head backwards.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to address me informally, Christopher.”

“Go to hell.”

Zach leaned down and bit painfully into Chris’ neck, sucking the skin into his mouth, savoring the taste of Chris’ flesh.

“Why were you looking for it, Chris?”

Chris turned his head, burying his face in Zach’s neck.

Zach purred against Chris’ ear. He ground his crotch into Chris’ ass. The boy’s head fell back as his eyes rolled closed; Zach released Chris’ hair. Zach moved his free arm around Chris’ torso, rubbing his chest in rhythm with the canting of his hips.

“Answer me, Christopher.”

Again, Chris pulled away abruptly. He spun around to face Zach, fire shooting from his blue eyes. Zach fisted his hands at his sides in an effort to remain still. He wanted to launch himself across the small gap between them, spin the boy around to face the wall and pound into his ass until he couldn’t sit for a month.

“Why the hell do you think I was looking for it, _Mr. Quinto_? No one else was going to make the voices dim. God knows _you_ weren’t going to fucking take care of – ” Chris’ shoulders heaved with the emotional exertion of his admission.

“What do you want, Chris?” Zach asked, voice soft.

He turned those sorrow-filled baby-blues on him, and Zach felt another little bit of his heart shatter. At the same time, he felt an overwhelming frustration. The boy expected the impossible. Zach could guess at bits of what made one Christopher Pine tick, but guessing wasn’t enough to fight off the boy’s demons.

“Who was your visitor, Chris?”

Zach remained still, allowing Chris to have both the mental and the physical space he needed. This was his move. He was more than willing to fill the void in Chris’ life, to be the one to take care of him, but Chris needed to take this step of faith – make this one move of _trust_.

“It – ” Chris’ voice broke.

Still, Zach waited. He watched Chris take a fortifying breath.

“It was my father.”

Zach nodded once. He’d surmised it was something like that.

“What happened, Chris?”

Chris ran his hand through his hair in a gesture Zach had come to recognize as frustration. He began to pace back and forth along the small space between the bunk and the wall. Zach’s eyes followed him until they began to hurt. Needing him to stop, Zach reached out and gently held Chris’ arm.

“Sit down, Chris.”

To his relief, Chris allowed Zach to tug him to the bottom bunk where they sat down next to each other. Zach smiled a bit as he felt Chris shift until their bodies were aligned from shoulder to toe. He put his arm around the boy’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing back and forth against the skin. Chris settled his head against Zach’s shoulder and exhaled deeply.

“I didn’t tell you everything about my nightmares. I – I _couldn’t_ tell you. They’re my secret; he always said it was _our_ secret.”

Zach noted the bitter tone, but remained silent. He would allow Chris to tell this in his own way, in his own time.

“I don’t think it’s our secret anymore. Not since – ”

Chris nuzzled into Zach’s neck. He felt the boy press a gentle kiss to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Zach squeezed Chris’ shoulder reassuringly. Zach felt one of Chris’ hands move to his knee, the fingers rubbing an absentminded pattern.

“It got really bad when I left for college. He didn’t want me to go away for school. I compromised – I thought I did anyway, and went to a local school. But, I wanted to live on campus. He let me; he was fucking _paying_ for it, so I thought we were cool, you know? I came home for Thanksgiving break that first year and he’d brought a woman into our house. For eleven goddamned years, it was just the two of us; us against the world…that’s what he’d promised me. Fucker.”

Chris paused. His hand tightened on Zach’s knee; Zach doubted he even knew he was doing it. Needing to offer the boy something, he placed kisses on the top of Chris’ head.

“She didn’t like me. I think she knew about me and her new husband. God, she practically poked my eye out waving the damn ring in front of my face. She was always watching me out of the corner of her eye. It’s like she thought I was going to just jump his bones right there in front of her – ” Chris let out a humorless laugh. “Okay, so I thought about it once or twice, but it wasn’t ever _really_ going to happen. He would’ve beat the shit out of me.” Chris’ smile faded.

Zach moved his hand from where it rested on Chris’ shoulder up to his ear. Gently, he began to rub his earlobe. He hoped the boy found it as soothing as he did.

“He came to me that first night, though. For that one night, it was like it used to be. It gave me hope. I thought things would go back to how they were. Maybe she was just a fluke, you know? Like he brought her home to make me jealous, teach me a lesson and all. Then, lesson learned and she’d go away. She was there in the morning. He didn’t come the next night. The room was dark and I was alone. I hated being alone in that room. He knew what it was like when I was alone. I tried to turn the light on, but the light bulb was gone. He’d taken it out – who does that? I went and got a new one from the basement and slept with the light on that night.”

Zach continued to run his finger along the shell of Chris’ ear.

“The next night, the light bulb was gone again, but I’d been locked in the room. I’d never felt so pathetic in my whole life. I was nineteen years old, but I couldn’t sleep because the room was dark and I was trapped and I was alone. I heard someone, it could’ve been either one of them, unlock the door the next morning. Not that it really mattered, but I waited a while before leaving the room. I acted like nothing was wrong, like I hadn’t spent the whole night curled up in the corner watching the shadows play along the walls. She smiled at me for the first time that morning. I knew I was screwed.”

Zach felt Chris’ shudder reverberate through his body.

“She wasn’t smiling the next day. He’d come the next night – to my room. He let me keep the light on, too. But…but, I snapped. I asked why he’d replaced me. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have taken what I could get and kept my fucking mouth shut. He told me it was my fault. That I’d abandoned him and moved on. I hadn’t. It was a lie. I told him that, but he didn’t believe me. He was convinced I’d gone off to college and whored myself out to the first available swinging dick. I shouted at him. Told him he was the one whoring out – and to a woman. He beat me pretty good that night. Best sex ever, though.” Chris snorted. “Fuck, it was so screwed up. I’d never hurt so bad in my life, but it was so _good_. Like he finally cared enough to _do_ something. She knew, though. Fuck, a blind man would have known. The bruises were intense. I couldn’t sit for any period of time, and, well, just about all of me hurt. The next morning I thought she was going to kill me. She might have too, but he kept close to me all day long. Never touched me though; never in front of her.”  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
Chris wasn’t quite sure when he’d made the decision to relate the sordid details of his past to Zach, but once the words started tumbling from his mouth he couldn’t seem to get them out fast enough. He was glad Zach hadn’t said anything. If Zach opened his mouth, Chris knew he wouldn’t be able to go on, he wouldn’t be able to finish the story. Part of him felt relieved to have finally told someone, as if part of his soul had been healed. The other part, the part he kept telling to shut the hell up, was terrified. Zach could decide after this conversation that Chris was damaged goods. It was one thing to see a couple of new bruises, but to hear the whole colorful back-story, that was something else all together.

“I should have savored the feeling. It was the last time he touched me that trip. By the time I headed back to school, the visible stuff had healed enough to be unnoticeable. Not that I had anyone at college to notice. Unlike what he thought about me, it was hard to meet people. I’d never had many friends growing up, it didn’t seem important. He was always there for me. Picking me up from school and hanging out and stuff. But, it limited my social skills. None of the college kids – I don’t know. I think I was just too much of a freak for them.”

Chris took a deep breath. He remembered how excited he’d been to go home. It had been so lonely at college. Unlike the liberating experience he’d anticipated, he’d been cold and lost.

“I tried, you know,” Chris said, he pulled away to look up at Zach.

Zach’s expression was unreadable, which was probably a good thing because Chris couldn’t decide what sort of expression he’d want to see on the man’s face. He concluded it was probably better to see no reaction. Safer.

“Tried what?” Zach asked.

“Making friends, having relationships. I even tried going out with a girl once. It wasn’t a particularly good idea on my part. She quickly learned how gay I was, and went on for _ever_ about how she always attracted the gay guys. I tried apologizing, but she wasn’t interested. The next time I went out it was with a guy. But, it didn’t end any better. I kept thinking I was betraying him. Being out with someone else always felt _wrong_ …and that was before _and_ after Thanksgiving break. I never made it past a couple of sloppy kisses. Even if I could block out the mantra of _it’s betrayal_ it never felt the same. It never felt like anything.”

Zach was looking at him quizzically now. Of all the expressions Chris had imagined appearing on the man’s face, that one wasn’t one of them.

“What?” Chris asked.

“We’ve gone well beyond a few sloppy kisses, Christopher.”

Chris chuckled, but met Zach’s gaze soberly.

“You make me _feel_ again, Mr. Quinto.”

Chris climbed into Zach’s lap, his legs locked behind the man’s back. Looking into Zach’s eyes, Chris felt himself fall the rest of the way into the man. He was no longer only himself. He was a part of Zach. There was no help for it. Chris knew it was screwed up to become dependent upon someone so fully, to consciously acknowledge himself as simply an extension of another person. He couldn’t change it. He didn’t _want_ to change it.

It was a huge step, but it was the only possible conclusion. They both knew it. Slowly, eyes locked with Zach’s, Chris brought his lips down to Zach’s. Softly, he brushed his lips back and forth against Zach’s. He repeated this motion, and was about to pull back completely when he felt Zach’s hand settle on his ass.

“You’re sure about this?”

Chris nodded.

“There’s no going back from this, Christopher.”

Playfully, Chris nipped at Zach’s lower lip. “I know.”

With a growl that spread warmth throughout Chris’ whole body, Zach crushed their lips together. Like a man crazed from starvation, Zach licked, nipped and kissed Chris. For his part, Chris didn’t try to do anything other than enjoy the sensation. He held onto Zach’s shoulders to keep from losing himself in the frenzied onslaught. Needing the extra friction, Chris ground down against Zach, earning another growl from the older man. Zach’s hands squeezed his ass, bringing their bodies even closer. His eyes rolled back in his head as Zach’s lips trailed from his lips to his neck.

Zach reached up and slowly began to undo the buttons of Chris’ jumper. Chris smiled. The movements were slow enough to allow him to pull back, to stop things before they crossed _that_ line. It was unnecessary. Chris had no desire to stop this any more than he desired to stop breathing. He wanted Zach in an exquisitely painful way. Zach’s fingers lingered on Chris’ exposed skin, and Chris attributed it to the fact that Zach finally realized he wasn’t going to back out – or freak. Fuck. He wasn’t surprised by Zach’s hesitation and he hated himself for it. Zach had done everything in his power to make Chris feel comfortable with him, but he’d done nothing to make Zach comfortable with him. Other than the deserved punishments, Zach’d been a gentleman. Chris felt like shit. But, Zach was always so _composed_ , and he had his shit together. Chris would never be like that. He’d find a way to screw this up – he knew this, but he’d hang onto what he had with Zach while he could.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Zach raised an eyebrow at Chris’ announcement, but made no move to increase the speed of his actions.

Chris ground his teeth together. The gentle brush of Zach’s fingers against his skin was shooting sparks through his body and it was slowly driving him mad. Needing to increase the action between them, Chris leaned forward and placed a kiss to Zach’s neck, right above the collar of his jumper. He licked the skin he found there, dipping down to his clavicle. A smile lit his face when he felt Zach’s fingers falter for the briefest of seconds. Chris moved his hands to the buttons of Zach’s jumper and wasted no time in undoing them all the way to the waistline.

When Zach’s laugh rumbled across his neck, Chris trembled.

“Impatient, are we?”

“Fuck.”

He felt Zach smile against his neck. “Eloquent, Christopher.” He punctuated his statement with a nip at Chris’ earlobe.

“Gah!”

Chris writhed wantonly in Zach’s lap, savoring the friction caused by the movement. When Zach brought his mouth to one of Chris’ nipples, his eyes crossed. He’d lost track of how many buttons Zach had undone, and the added stimulation shot straight to his straining cock. Chris rocked his hips more erratically, desperately searching for more friction as Zach sucked languidly on his nipple. Once again, Chris found himself hating Zach’s control. The fucker acted as though he wasn’t hard as nails and had all the time in the world to simply drive Chris to distraction with his tongue. Chris wanted more.

He reached between them and pressed the palm of his hand into Zach’s erection. He smirked when he felt Zach take a shuddering breath. Chris continued to work his hand between them; occasionally the back of his hand would brush against his own dick, sending sparks up his spine. Eventually, Chris managed to get his hand into Zach’s jumper. He closed his fingers around Zach’s hard dick, loving the way it felt in his hand, hot and heavy for him. Eyes closed, he imaged what it would feel like buried deep inside him. Wanting to feel him soon, Chris began to move his hand in a steady rhythm. He loved the way Zach began to slowly thrust into his hand, distracted from his torturous ministrations to Chris’ chest.

Eyes wide, Chris found himself on his back, gazing up at Zach’s eyes, which were nearly black with lust. Zach ran his hands up Chris’ arms, working them above his head where he interlocked their fingers. Agonizingly slow, Zach licked a path up Chris’ torso. He paused briefly to swirl his tongue in Chris’ bellybutton, and Chris squeezed their joined hands as his hips bucked up against Zach. Zach smirked against Chris’ skin as he continued to work his mouth up Chris’ body.

When Zach’s body was fully settled on top of his own, Chris stretched his neck out to capture Zach’s mouth with his own. Zach eagerly engaged in the kiss, licking along the seam of Chris’ lips, begging entrance. Chris opened his mouth to accept Zach’s tongue and spread his legs enough to allow one of Zach’s to fall between them. When Zach ground down into him, Chris moaned as his eyes rolled back into his skull.

Zach moved his mouth to Chris’ neck, sucking gently on the skin behind his ear.

“I’m going to be buried deep inside you when I come, Christopher.”

Chris’ entire body shuddered. He wanted it. He wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything and the thought scared him as much as it excited him. With one last kiss to Zach’s neck, Chris wiggled out from underneath Zach. He was so hard it hurt and only Zach could relieve the pressure he felt inside of him. Chris crawled onto his knees, shoving the rest of his jumper off. He moved his hands back to his ass, and spread his cheeks apart.

"What are you doing?" Zach asked.

Chris looked over his shoulder confusion evident on his face.

"Getting ready for the sex part?"

Zach smiled faintly and shook his head.

"Not like that, Chris. The first time I make love to you, we'll be face to face."

Chris looked dubious, but shrugged his shoulders and moved from his knees to his back. Zach had bizarre kinks, but whatever. He needed Zach and if it meant getting it on his back, then he'd take what he could get.

"Why did you automatically go to your knees, Chris?"

At first, Chris didn't know what to say. It was how you had sex. Simple as that, but from the way Zach was looking at him...maybe it wasn't so simple.

"It's how you have sex."

"Not the only way."

Chris shivered at Zach's tone. He was upset about something, but Chris couldn't figure out what he could have done wrong. He sat up, drawing his knees to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Quinto."

Zach's gaze snapped to him, as if Chris' words had pulled the other man from a dream.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I made you angry. I didn't mean to, and I'm sorry. Please. Please don't make me leave your bed. Please! Whatever I did, I swear I - I won't do it again."

"Come here," Zach's command was gentle.

Hesitantly, Chris moved into Zach's open arms. He relaxed slightly when he felt Zach's lips brush the top of his head.

"I'm not angry with you. I was not my intent for you to feel like you were in trouble. It bothers me that you think sex can only be had when you're on your knees."

It wasn't the only way, but he doubted Zach wanted him face up against the wall, legs spread wide. Chris shivered at the thought. Zach pulled back, his dark eyes searching Chris' face. He didn't understand why he was under such scrutiny, and tried to bury his face back into Zach's neck. The older man wouldn't allow it.

"You don't understand, do you?"

Chris didn’t answer. It wasn’t a question for him to answer.

"You've never had someone face you during sex."

Again, Chris didn't respond. It still wasn't a question.

"I want you to enjoy - " Zach stopped.

Chris reached out and rested his hand on Zach's arm. He didn’t know what was wrong or how to fix it, but he needed to do something. He had to keep touching Zach, maybe that way he'd know Chris was okay. He couldn't handle distance...and he felt it growing with each second that ticked away.

"I will enjoy it. I need you," Chris admitted in a small voice.

Zach brought his lips to Chris' in a tender kiss.

"I want to show you how sex can be so much more than what you've settled for, Chris. Do you trust me to show you?"

Chris considered Zach's question, knowing a quick answer would be received negatively. He did trust Zach. He trusted Zach implicitly. He was a fool.

“I trust you.”

Chris held his breath as Zach simply stared at him, clearly trying to figure out if Chris was telling the truth. Chris didn’t know what else he could do to convince Zach that this was _really_ what he wanted.

“Good.”

Chris’ sigh of relief was short-lived. He watched helplessly as Zach slid from the bed and walked over foot of the bunk. Moving up to rest on his elbows, Chris was able to see Zach digging in his mattress for something.  Chris shifted to get a better look at what Zach held in his hands – and smiled. Of course, Zach would have thought of everything. And be able to acquire anything. Chris settled back into the pillows as Zach prowled back to him. Zach bent over and gave Chris a devastating kiss, his tongue thrust in and out of Chris’ mouth in a parody of what would soon be happening to other parts of his body.

Carefully, Zach laid the condom down on the floor next to the bed before coating his fingers in lube. Zach kept his eyes locked with Chris’ as he slowly inserted one finger into Chris’ ass. It’d been a long time since Chris’d had someone enter him and he hissed a little at the stretch. Instantly, Zach stilled his finger, allowing Chris time to accommodate. When the sting subsided, Chris pushed against Zach’s finger. Needing no further encouragement, Zach resumed his shallow thrusts. Chris wiggled his ass in an attempt to get Zach’s finger to penetrate deeper, but Zach’s expression was smug and Chris knew he was simply along for the ride.

As if knowing the moment he acquiesced, Zach inserted a second finger and increased the speed of his fingers. Chris’ head thrashed from side to side as Zach’s fingers worked him over, stretched him, scissoring in the most _amazing_ way. Hands fisted into the sheets, Chris writhed under Zach.

Zach’s fingers pulled from Chris’ body with a wet sound and Chris could have sobbed at the loss even as his body pulsed in anticipation.

“Ready, baby?”

Unable to force his mind to form words, Chris nodded.

Zach bent over and picked the condom up from where he’d placed it earlier.

Not sure if he’d get his hand smacked away, but also not _really_ caring, Chris reached out and snatched the condom from Zach’s hand.

Zach merely raised an eyebrow in a manner that Chris was fairly certain meant he was amused.

Chris winked; Zach smiled.

With one hand, Chris firmly stroked Zach’s dick a few times while he used the other hand and his teeth to rip open the condom packet. He spit the empty wrapper onto the floor. He moved his hand away from Zach long enough to roll the condom onto his length. Wordlessly, Zach handed Chris the lube and his eyes rolled back as Chris coated his dick with the liquid.

Zach took Chris’ legs and placed them on his shoulders. He kept his eyes on Chris as he guided the tip of his dick to Chris’ hole. Chris moved his hands to grip Zach’s forearms, his body hovering over Chris’. Ever so slowly, Zach pushed his way into Chris’ body. The sensation was completely new to him. Partially because it was _Zach_ and partially because the position was new. He found he enjoyed watching the expressions as they traveled across Zach’s face. It heightened his own pleasure to _see_ how much Zach was enjoying _him_.

Above him, he saw Zach clench his jaw. Chris realized Zach was waiting for him to be ready. Once more Chris was overwhelmed by how much Zach took care of him and how absolutely clueless he was about Zach’s needs. Feeling like a fool, Chris rocked his hips and watched the tension fade from Zach’s face. Zach set a steady pace, Chris loving the feel of Zach’s dick moving in and out of his body.

Reaching his hand up, Chris cupped Zach’s cheek. He tugged slightly, attempting to pull Zach’s face closer to his. Figuring out his intent, Zach captured Chris’ lips in a sweet kiss. Their lips brushed, Chris tongue peeking out to lick along the seam of Zach’s lips. His lips parted in a sigh, allowing Chris to deepen the kiss. As the kiss continued, Zach’s hips picked up their pace.

Soon, each cant of Zach’s hips brought his dick into direct contact with Chris’ prostate. Zach’s lips traveled from Chris’ lips to his neck, where he sucked the skin into his mouth, marking Chris once more. Chris fisted his hands into Zach’s hair, holding the man to his neck, wanting the mark, needing the stamp of ownership. With a cry, Zach broke away from Chris’ neck, his hips thrusting, hard, uncoordinated. With a few final thrusts, Chris felt Zach shudder in completion.

After taking several deep breaths, Zach brought his hand to encircle Chris’ dick. Chris hissed at the contact.

“Don’t think I’d forget about you, baby.”

Chris whimpered. Zach’s thumb collected some of the precome from Chris’ dick and spread it around the tip of his dick. Chris felt Zach’s softened dick slide from his body and felt oddly hollow. That was new. Then Zach’s hot mouth was on his dick; all rational thoughts fled his mind.

Chris’ hands fisted into Zach’s hair as Zach continued to bob up and down on his dick. Zach replaced his mouth with his hand and sucked Chris’ balls into his mouth, sucking them as he tugged on Chris’ dick.

“Gah, fuck!”

“Come for me, Chris.”

He came undone in Zach’s hand, his hot come shooting onto Zach’s chest, over his Zach’s hands. Chris panted, unable to think about anything; his mind blissfully blank. He felt the bed shift and he sighed as Zach pulled him into his arms. They lay there, on the bottom bunk, content to bask in the afterglow of powerful orgasms. Chris had never experienced anything like that in his life. He’d never known sex could be so _intimate_. He’d be forever grateful to Zach for giving him such a gift, and he’d take advantage of it for as long as fate would allow him.  

  


 “Chris?”

“Yeah, Zach?”

Zach’s hand stilled where it had been trailing through Chris’ hair.

“You never remember the appellation.”

“You just had your dick up my ass. I’m calling you Zach.”

Chris felt Zach shift into a better position to look at him. Smiling contentedly from the security of Zach’s arms, Chris looked up at Zach’s astonished face. The look slowly morphed into one of Zach’s inscrutable looks.

“Tell me where you got the glass shard, Christopher.”

Chris bit his lip. Of course Zach wouldn’t have forgotten what led them to this place. He’d want to know the answer to his original question. Damn him. But, there really was no point in withholding the information. Not after the evening’s more intimate activities.

“I get to call you Zach if I tell you.”

“I thought you’d determined you were already _going_ to call me Zach.”

“Yes, but now you can’t punish me for it.”

“I’m sure I’ll find something else to punish you for – now answer my question.”

“He gave it to me. The bastard put it in my pocket before he left. He knew I’d use it. Fucker.”

“How’d he manage to bring it in with him?”

Chris blinked up at Zach mutely. Didn’t he know?

“What, Chris?”

“Don’t you know?”

Zach merely raised an eyebrow.

“Zach, he’s the Chief Justice of the State Supreme Court.”

Zach nodded. Chris watched Zach’s eyes slowly close. He felt Zach’s arms tighten around him. For the first time in far too long, he felt like he was _home_.

 **Part 5**  


“I told him to keep a better eye on his pets.”

Chris froze; the blood in his veins replaced with ice. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Zach would save him. Zach _had_ to save him.

A cruel hand fisted Chris’ hair in his hand and yanked.

“I told you he wouldn’t be able to keep you safe forever.”

Heedless of the hand griping his hair, Chris shook his head violently. It had to be a dream, another one of his nightmares. Zach would keep him safe forever. Zach promised forever. Zach wouldn’t break his promise. Any minute now, he would appear, chase away the conjuring of his imagination. Then, he’d hold Chris close and whisper meaningless words into his ear. Yes.

Harsh reality interrupted his imagined hope. The hand griping his hair flung him into the tiled wall. Before he could move to his feet, arms yanked him by the boxers. He heard the material of his boxers begin to tear as the material was stripped away from him. His knees burned from where they were rubbed along the ground. The air was pushed from his lungs as a foot to his back forced him face first into the ground, his bare ass up in the air. He didn’t have much time to analyze his half-nude state.

“Such a perky little ass.”

On his hands and knees, Chris did his best to crab away from the hands grabbing at him. Something was delaying Zach. He needed to buy time until Zach could come and rescue him. He wasn’t helpless, not yet. He would fight until Zach arrived. A cold hand gripped his ankle, the fingers pushed bruises into his skin. Desperately, Chris dug his fingers into the ground, attempting to find purchase on something, _anything_ , to keep him from being dragged back to danger. The hand not holding his ankle came down hard on his ass. Chris bit back a yelp as tears burned his eyes.

Scrambling for better footing, Chris fought make himself balanced. Behind him, he could hear laughter and it burnt a dark path to his soul. Anger built within him, replacing the terror and humiliation. He no longer needed to accept what happened to him passively. If this was a dream, he could control it. With renewed fight, Chris twisted his torso, brining his fist around, clipping the side of Eric’s face. The momentum of his arc landed him on his back. Panting, he blinked at the person wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. This wasn’t right. It was never Eric in his dreams. Eric’s face was set in grim smile as he prowled closer. Chris scrambled back.

“Glad to see Zach hasn’t broken all the fight out of ya. Makes it more fun when they squirm.”

Caged like a rabbit, Chris’ eyes darted around the room. He was trapped. Zach wasn’t coming. The inevitability of his situation allowed him a detached sense of serenity. Instead of overwhelming terror, he felt separated from it all. What happened next was simply an existential exercise. He didn’t struggle. Fighting would make it much, much worse. He’d landed one hit; it was enough.

Eric pulled Chris’ arms behind his back and bound them with something, Chris wasn’t sure what it was and didn’t care enough to think it through too much. Strong arms banded around his chest, pulled him flush against a strong body. Teeth bit into the flesh of his shoulder, a chunk of skin, muscle, tendon could have gone with the teeth…it no longer mattered to Chris. He heard his cries of pain as an echo in a vacuum. Eric’s hand connected with the side of his face.

“Don’t do that, Chris. I want you with me during this. You’re going to enjoy it.”

Chris blinked a couple of times, parts of his surroundings came into focus. The coarse material of Eric’s jumpsuit ground mercilessly against his bare ass. Thick, warm liquid ran slowly down his neck. Instinctually, he moved his hand to wipe it away, but when his arms wouldn’t follow his mind’s command he remembered – his arms were bound behind his back. He felt Eric’s tongue lap at his neck.

“Mmmm,” Eric hummed into his ear.

Shoved to his knees, Chris’ teeth knocked together at the abrupt impact. As if it were the only sound in the room, Chris heard Eric slide the material of his jumpsuit down his legs. A semi-erect penis dominated his line of sight. Of course, he knew how this would go. This time, there was no way for him to do it right. No matter what he did, it wouldn’t be enough for the man looming over him. Chris shuddered as Eric forced his dick into his mouth. Choking on it, Chris thought about clamping his jaw down, but found he couldn’t. Eric thrust his hips, forcing his dick further down Chris’ throat, it was all he could do to focus on breathing through his nose. The hand at the back of his head guided his actions. Over and over again he felt Eric’s dick move punishingly in and out of his throat.

When the dick was pulled from his mouth, Chris gulped in deep, gasping breaths as his eyes watered and his vision swam. His gasps turned to coughs that burned his raw throat. He found himself unable to go back to that blissful state of existential experience. Eric bent down, grabbed Chris’ chin and forced him to look up at him. Chris could read the hatred, the victory in Eric’s eyes. He watched Eric’s lips descend to his own. He felt teeth dig into his lips, tasted his blood drip into his mouth.

Hand clamped firmly around Chris’ neck, Eric hauled him to his feet.

Chris staggered, nearly falling. With his hand still around Chris’ neck, Eric forced his tongue deep into Chris’ mouth. Eric’s grip was firm and soon Chris was slammed face first against the wall. Chris felt Eric align his body against his, felt his hot breath, heavy along his neck. Without any warning, Eric pushed his dick into Chris’ ass. Ass dry and unprepared, Chris cried out against the invasion. It burned painfully and he felt as though his ass was being torn in two. Behind him Eric grunted as he continued to pound mercilessly into Chris. His arms hurt, locked as they were behind his back, each time Eric thrust forward it jerked his arms sharply, pain shooting down from his shoulders. In front of him, his dick slammed painfully into the wall in front of him. His face rubbed against the wall until the friction tore the skin away. Blood began to drip from the abrasions on his cheeks, joining the blood from his neck and mouth.

Helpless, Chris tried to get his mind to focus on something else. He couldn’t. Each time he felt Eric’s dick slam into his body, he cursed himself for not being strong enough. Somehow he knew that if he’d been stronger, if he’d been able to hold out against Eric for a little bit longer that Zach would have shown up and saved him. He’d failed; this was his punishment. The rough movements caused the binding to bite painfully into his wrists. Soon, he could feel blood soaking into the material holding him captive.

Erick yanked Chris’ hair, exposing the column of his neck. Chris felt his teeth sink into the skin once more. He felt a hand land hard on his ass, making his entire body jerk away in pain. This motion simply caused other parts of his body to cry out in agony. Soon, every hit, every thrust, every bite melded into an endless procession of pain – each action indiscernible from the next. He simply floated in a sea of endless pain. Instead of being able to detach from the pain, each white-hot punishment he felt drew him closer to the reality of what was happening.

Eventually, he felt Eric pull from his body. He shuddered at the void, body slumping against the wall. Free of Eric’s grip, he fell heavily to the ground, his legs unable to support his weight. Blearily he looked up. Eric towered above him. He gripped his swollen dick in his hand and pumped it steadily. Chris watched as Eric’s back bowed, heard the guttural sound he made and felt Eric’s come splatter on his face.

Chris turned his face away when Eric crouched down next to him. Pain laced through his body and he curled further into himself protectively. Another hit to his kidney caused Chris to cry out in pain.

“Don’t ever turn your back on me,” Eric growled into Chris’ ear.

Unable to respond, Chris lay there, motionless. Distantly he heard Eric stand to his feet. He felt Eric’s foot drive into his lower back, the force knocking the air from him.

“I said not to turn your back on me.”

Dazed, Chris rolled onto his other side, a difficult task with his hands bound behind him, but the motion eventually worked, allowing him to face Eric. The maniacal grin on his face made Chris regret his decision, but the pain infusing his body dictated his actions. He’d do anything to avoid another hit.

“Quinto trained you well. You follow direction nicely.”

Eric bend over, spit on Chris’ face and left. Alone, free from any immediate hits, Chris allowed his eyes to roll closed.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
In his ears, a hollow emptiness rang as his feet marked his path. To his right and left, people fell away into the distance; they were unimportant. Before him, Eric waited. Nothing else existed as he closed the distance between them. His mind remained free of the clamor; his vision clear. He found a freedom in the distinct lack of feeling. Karl held the little worm, ensuring he couldn’t wiggle away. For a long moment, Zach simply stared at the bald man.

He placed his left hand on Eric’s face; he curled his right around the back of his head. With a swift turn, Zach broke Eric’s neck. Returning his hands to his side, he watched as the head slumped forward, lifeless. Zach tilted his head to the side, a curious expression on his face. He thought he should feel _something._

“It’s over, Quinto.”

Zach nodded to Karl. It was over, for everyone.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
“You’ve got a visitor, Quinto,” Bruce said as he slid open the door.

Zach looked up from his book. His eyes flitted between Bruce and the person standing next to Bruce. He blinked. They were both still there. But, it was impossible. He lowered his head again and waved his hand dismissively.

“No visitors, Bruce.”

Feet shuffled closer as others shuffled out the door. With a sigh, Zach closed his book.

“You still don’t obey very well.”

“Some kids just never learn, Zach.”

Zach smirked. Kid still had spunk. Good.

“Why are you here, Chris?”

“You know why I’m here.”

“There’s no need for this. You’re free. The judge let you get out of this – ” Zach gestured to the space around him, “zoo early. It’s beyond foolish to come back inside this place.”

“It’s amazing what happens when you come in through the front door.”

“Your disobedience is contagious.”

“Really?”

“I told Bruce I didn’t want any visitors.”

“Specifically me.”

Zach quirked a brow, unsurprised Chris knew this. It made sense. Who else would he care about enough to not want to see? Who else would he go through the effort of _not_ requesting? Only Christopher Pine. Always Christopher Pine. Inside this room, he held no power. Inside this room, he was reminded of his failure. His lack of control led him to this place. He didn’t regret his actions; he’d kept a promise. The manner in which he kept his promise, well, that could have been done with a bit more…finesse.

“You’re going to ignore me?” Chris asked.

“You look good.”

It was Chris’ turn to smirk. Zach liked seeing him smile. Although he saw the shadows lurking in the blue eyes, he did look better. The last time he’d seen Chris…didn’t matter. He was better now.

“I don’t want you there, Chris.”

“You’re not in a position to make orders like that, Zach.”

Zach looked up, met Chris’ unwavering gaze. Damn, he’d missed those eyes. He memorized them once more; those eyes would be his dying image. He wouldn’t tolerate the pain he knew would be there soon enough to be his last vision on Earth, so he’d save the memory as they were now, alight with mischief.

“I’ll make it my dying wish.”

“I won’t make that promise, Zach.”

“You won’t?”

“You can beat me within an inch of my life and fuck me until I can’t sit for the rest of my life – none of that will keep me from being there. It’s my choice. My last – ”

“Is that why you came? To tell me the details of your final act of defiance?”

Chris laughed. The sound tickled Zach’s senses, filled his heart with warmth. He’d been too long without that sound. Like a starving man, his soul devoured it, tucked it away to recall later. When his desperation was at its worst. He should be happy to see Chris. To have this final opportunity to observe him, to hear the sound of his voice, to touch him, but the closest he could get was melancholy.

“I was told you came to visit me while I was unconscious.”

Zach didn’t respond.

“I wouldn’t have wanted you there, but you were there anyway.”

“This isn’t a role-reversal, Christopher.”

“No, Mr. Quinto, it’s not.”

Chris paced back and forth. Zach watched as Chris tousled his hair in agitation.

He’d used the appellation, damn him. He hadn’t heard Chris address him like that in months. Had it really been months? Zach ran a hand down his face. Knowing about all the time he’d spent with Chris – all the time he _wouldn’t_ spend with Chris. It broke his resolve a little. Made him want things he had no right to want. It made him consider regretting his actions.

“Stop pacing, Chris.”

Chris stopped, and turned to face him. He looked so hurt. He’d caused that look. Chris was hurting and it wasn’t just because he was going down the final path.

“I’m happy you’re here,” Zach said.

“Liar.”

Zach smirked. “I’m glad to see you.”

Chris moved closer to Zach.

“Really?” Chris asked, voice unsure.

“Yeah,” Zach admitted as he pulled Chris into his arms.

He felt Chris melt into him and memorized the way it felt; he knew this was the last time he’d be able to feel the warmth of the boy in his arms. He wrapped his arms tighter around Chris, feeling him return the embrace. They both knew these were their final moments together. Zach was on borrowed time. He felt warm lips press against his neck; he felt warm tears stain his shirt. Chris began to shake slightly, emotions getting the best of him. Zach moved his hand up to cradle the back of Chris’ head. He wanted to make the tears stop, he wanted to take the pain away, but he knew he couldn’t. Helplessness unlike anything he’d ever experienced enveloped him. Under its weight he felt crushed. Right now, he was already dead. Tomorrow was simply a formality.

He felt Chris shift again. He saw the boy blink back tears. It was one thing to cry into his shoulder, it was another to look him in the eye and cry; Zach understood this. He had another twenty hours to bask in his misery. Once Chris left, he would have nothing but time. Time to be alone with his thoughts. Time to categorize and replay his memories. The moments he’d shared with Chris from the first glimpse of his too blue eyes, to their final good-bye. Those were his. No one, not even God himself could take those away from him. They’d be his forever. In that way, he’d always have a part of Chris all to himself. A piece no one else could ever have.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
Chris stood up in the observation room. He wanted to pace. It disgusted him that they called it an observation room, as if what was going on below was simply another daily activity for the masses. If people wanted a room for observing things that went on in this place, they should set one up in the cafeteria; let the people witness feeding time at the zoo. Not that Chris had another name for the glass-enclosed space above the murdering room. He was sure it had a different name as well, something classy and politically correct. Fuck that. They were killing people in that room and even if they deserved it, no amount of flowery names would change it. The whole place felt sterile; of course, he knew the room below had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life. Down below, they could only murder healthy people in clean rooms.

Deep down, Chris knew his thoughts were borderline insane. He’d thought as much about his inner monologues since he’d first stepped foot into the zoo nearly two years ago. The truth of it was he only cared because they were killing Zach. Because of him. Fuck.

Agitated, he moved to a seat close to the glass. It was sick, but he needed to be as close as possible. It would be easier to pretend there wasn’t a thick sheet of glass separating him from Zach. It would be easier to believe he was down there in the room next to him. He fingered the bruise on his neck, his eyes closed at the memory of Zach’s lips and teeth marking him, claiming him, owning him for the last time. He shuddered.

Chris’ eyes snapped open when he heard the door squeak on its hinges. He didn’t look up to the peanut gallery as he was led into the room. Chris didn’t expect him to; he understood. It broke him inside to be denied that once last scorching gaze, but he’d said his goodbyes. He’d been given more time than either of them deserved, but he’d beg for more if he thought it would do any good. It wouldn’t.

Dying was such a production. There were always so many people flitting around, even in a place like this – _especially_ in a place like this. There were the guards, there were the doctors, there was the priest. Then there were the spectators. He should have listened to Zach’s request. He should have taken his goodbye and been content. Too late now. Now, he was stuck here in this little fishbowl to witness Zach’s final moments. The company line said he wouldn’t feel any pain…said he’d simply fall asleep. The company didn’t know Zach. The company didn’t know how Zach would torture himself. How he’d internalize the passivity of his death to the point of madness. Chris understood Zach’s helplessness and felt shame for adding to it.

The priest nodded to the doctor, indicating that Zach’s soul was at peace. Chris laughed darkly. As if the priest knew anything about Zach’s soul. Occasionally, people saw what they wanted to see, but most of the time, people saw only what they were _told_ to see. And the people in the room with Zach saw only Zachary Quinto three strike criminal. They didn’t see the motivation behind his actions. They didn’t understand his sense of honor, his personal code of conduct. Would they ever know how much he struggled to maintain control? Would they know he was Chris’ salvation? Did they realize exactly what they were about to do? Chris doubted it. After all, Chris was the criminal son of a family not meant to have social deviants.

He stopped breathing. Everything happened so slowly. In pantomime, the doctor moved to stand next to Zach. With a preciseness that inexplicably bothered Chris, the doctor turned a couple of knobs and checked the plastic tubes connecting Zach to Death. Liquid hung in bags next to the hospital bed they had Zach strapped into, and after Zach nodded to the doctor, the liquid began to drain from the bags into Zach’s body. Everything turned to silence. Seconds ticked into eternity. With macabre fascination, Chris watched the liquid poison travel from the bags into Zach’s veins. Just when he thought it was over, Zach looked at him. Suddenly the world moved normally again. The fluorescent lights overhead were too bright, the low buzz unreasonably loud. And Zach looked at him.

His eyes looked right into Chris before they closed for the final time. They asked Chris not to grieve, and somewhere deep inside Chris promise to try. In spite of his promise, he knew he’d bleed. Standing there, watching the life drain from Zach’s body, Chris heard the windless room call out his name. He knew then that he’d never fully heal. Nothing would replace the emptiness he’d feel. Pain would come eventually; the blessed numbness would recede. A few people would tell him what to do, how to get through the bleak chasm spanning the distance between him and his own final path. But, even those few didn’t know; they wouldn’t have a clue. Because no one else could come close to him.  
 

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

  
“Chris!” Bruce called.

Chris stopped, turned around. He wanted to be away from here, but Bruce deserved better from him. For Zach, he waited patiently until the guard reached him.

“I know you wanna be as far away from here as possible, but I had to get this to ya. Zach wanted you to have it, but not until…”

Chris nodded. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Bruce.”

“Take care of yourself, kid.”

“Sure thing, Bruce.”

His hands shook as he held the piece of paper between his fingers. Something was wrapped in it.

“Are you ready, Mr. Pine?”

Chris looked up from the paper in his hands. He shoved the package into his pocket and forced a smile. It’d taken him a while to get used to anyone addressing him like that. Somehow, it felt wrong. He’d finally quit turning his head, looking for someone else.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Very good, sir.”

Chris shook his head as his driver opened the door to the limousine. He’d never get used to this. It’d been like this since he’d gotten out a month earlier. A man in a three-piece suit had met him at the gate and informed him that he’d inherited his father’s estate. He’d been so distracted with Zach’s journey down the final path, that he hadn’t paid much attention to what it meant for him to inherit the estate. Perhaps foolishly, he’d left it in the hands of the estate manager.

The paper felt heavy in his pocket. He could almost hear Zach telling him to look at it. Reminding Chris that he wasn’t a patient man. Chris smiled at the memory. He hoped he’d be able to hold on to such thoughts, such memories. Above all, he feared losing the memories he had of Zach.

Chris pulled the paper from his pocket. He was alone now. No one would see him cry.

  


Chris,

It’s the last one. I figured you’d need it for those nights when the shadows play on the walls. There is more I should tell you, but you learned to call me Zach; that should tell you everything.

~Zachary

  


Tears fell freely down his face. It made no difference to him. He’d wipe some away and more would take their place. The object was wrapped in a piece of newspaper. Chris raised an eyebrow at the strange wrapping. Carefully, he peeled the paper away from the object which landed, momentarily forgotten in his lap. It was a clipping from the newspaper. The man’s face stared out at him, even frozen in a photograph he could feel the look; it made Chris shiver. He thought it was odd for Zach to give him an article about the man. It was no accident either; Zachary Quinto did nothing by accident. He read the article and felt his stomach drop like that feeling when you’re in an elevator and it goes down faster than expected. The solicitor had told him the man and his wife had died of “natural causes”; given their lifestyle, Chris had accepted it without a second thought. The article in his hand said the same thing, detailed how the new heir would not be able to continue the line of State Supreme Court Justices due to his armed robbery conviction. It was nothing he didn’t know, but Zach had given him the article. It had been wrapped around the last glow stick. Chris smiled and shook his head. Even in death, Zach was taking care of him, eliminating his demons.

“Natural causes my ass,” Chris said aloud. “Fucking bastard.”

  
**~FIN~**

**  
**


End file.
